I met women
owning prophetic names
I have seen gardens in ruins
I have seen shining words written in the sky

Little Cassandra
imprisoned behind a high wall
to witness all the disasters of the world

...but my voice is a different thing
she's made of air she's made of sea
and she has wings just like me

At every passage of the moon
I used to walk and fall asleep
I dreamt yellow eyes in the fields
in that place whose name was light as
a gentle breeze