I drift as a little cloud in verses,
Sometimes in better, sometimes in worse —
Do not look for me in relics.
And who needs me more
On overcrowded squares?

Unnoticed I will cover from the sun
With shade over your heads.
Do not take pride in me and do not be ashamed —
For you I am absent; in truth I am with you.

Let it scorch from above —
I offer myself to the luminary gladly,
And others gather in line behind me
As shadow, rains, snows, or hail.