	The Long Dances by Sabina Becker
	The long dances have captured my whirling feet; the night boils up all around me. From mania to depression and back— I spiral between the antipodes of mind. The dervishes whirl, chanting to Allah; I am too sad to dance or speak to God. What kind of conversation is this? Turning without reason, words clatter through air. Do you follow what I'm trying to tell you? You nod wordlessly, your eyes are empty as night. The mad chase is on, endlessly winding; Not with feet but with words do we run through the night. All night long, this mad singing, this rhyming! Bina, you are surrounded by competing, drunken poets.