Mother, when they killed the sacred cow,
I watched until I could no longer see.
Now I kill the sacred cows
Of my own life, unaware
Of what I do.
But when you have been silenced,
Moving through forbidden darkness,
Then you are the sacred cow,
And I am part of a procession
Streaming through a column of trees
Which marks the steps of my way.
How long will I destroy
My own footsteps in the grass and mud?
When the quiet waves of morning wash
Across the boundaries of life and death
(the only thing that keeps me from you now),
Your death becomes a flood,
And I become the sacred cow,
Sacrificed to your everlasting memory.
