Hitchhiking

I raise my hand for you to pick me up
when you pass by.

And in the distance the mountain laughs.
And the cypresses stretch upward.

Will you come back for me?
Or will you catch up with me here?

It’s getting dark. And I raise my hand
to the evening that is coming to take me.

Will you come back soon?
Or will you catch up with me?

Or will you only pass me by,
so that my road won’t end?