The nun’s dream

Maryana’s dark eyes don’t shine at night since no candles are lit. In quiet towns, no lantern’s light guides the traveler. Maryana’s long braids run from the mountain to the ocean waves. Her cold white hands hold sheep together sleeping in their sheepfolds. Beauty is hidden in folds of wool— streamlets and hillocks. How could she be barren when the whole country lies under her sheets? She is ever faithful, but with an abiding loneliness and longing for open fields.