hot and black tarmac,
amid yellow shrub.
On the roadside,
the little white and blue shrines,
to those who passed this way,
but didn't return.
'Animase'... prayers to God,
You have taken our loved ones from us,
and we prostrate ourselves before you.
Behind are the mountains,
tall and dark,
impressive and cold,
detached from the concerns of mankind.
The slow-moving lorries wind their way,
like beetles,
bonnets open to cool the engines,
loads covered with tarpaulin and cord.
Onwards, onwards,
up and up,
'til daylight ends,
and the stars blaze brightly in the sky.
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