Unfinished

You think you can quench this thirst in my soul, You vagabond. You think with just a twinkle of the eye You can open my heart. I am living a kind of forced retreat, and it's all about the empty days. Time is idle and passes slowly between these mountains. My days roll by as slowly As an old train in a freight yard, And my heart beats with a certain rhythm, Keeping time, passing time. There were thirty-four sparrows In a sparrow flock, Or so I remember. They found branches and stayed. I know I am unfinished, And I leave trails of memories Which weave through my mind Like chariots. You think you can quench this thirst in my soul, You vagabond. You do not know the hammering, This empty hammering in my head.