We may meet, Goddess Anahit! You gave me your name and your ancient myth. There’s a bench where I can sit. There’s a branch where a bird can sing. I wonder if you gave me your perfume made from mint. Do the stars stretch their knees not to slip? You didn’t smoke but I do, Goddess Anahit! However the ashes are the same in time’s messages. Who knows whose beauty shone in the ancient fortresses? You are still a statue in time’s voyages. Who am I in my old and new bandages? We have the same name in time’s images. Do the stars meet their myth Goddesses?