There’s hidden sweetness
in the stomach’s emptiness.
We are lutes, no more, no less.
If the soundbox
is stuffed full of anything,
If the brain and belly are burning clean
every moment a new song
comes out of the fire.
When you fast,
good habits gather
like friends who want to help.
A table descends to your tents,
Expect to see it, when you fast, this table
spread with other food,
better than the broth of cabbages.