She told me

That I would be the only one Who would not return

And for years

I would lose my way home

And in vain

I would blow the wind in my sails

And I would come to him

A stranger

On a shore of emptiness

He would collect the winds of all the corners in my bag

And blow the wind in my sails

I would fight the waves of devils

And sail on a wave of flame

To offer him a goat, our ransom

To return to our families

Who are waiting on a blazing shore of their longing.

Everyday, I dream that I return

And stretch my bow that beats the strong ones

I clean my yard from the mischief makers

And empty on her lips

The longing of my long nights

And pour in her ears

Some holy words.

She is Penelope

The soul's joy in salvation

And at completing the circles:

The circle of adoration when it turns into worship

The circle of eternity when the final ray departs

The circles of death

and the circle of resurrection

For her, the journey of the soul begins

For her, it ends.

She is Penelope

A destination for pride when pride bows down

Humble, like a lover to his beloved

A brook of milk

And branches of light and perfume

In whose shade, the nightingales sing.

She is Penelope

Like a prophet's intermediation

A reward to him

Who is lost in her love

Everyday I dream that I return

Even so that heaven tells me

That I will be the only outcast!