t around me.

        ts stubborn lament he sea.

        Deserted like t dawn.

        It is ture, oed one!

        Cold flower .

        O of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.

        In you ts accumulated.

        From you the song birds rose.

        You sance.

        Like time. In you everything sank!

        It    and the kiss.

        t blazed like a lighthouse.

        Pilots dread, fury of blind driver,

        turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank!

        In t my soul, winged and wounded.

        Lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

        You girdled sorroo desire,

        sadness stunned you, in you everything sank!

        I made the wall of shadow draw back,

        beyond desire and act, I walked on.

        O,

        I summon you in t o you.

        Like a jar you e tenderness.

        and te oblivion stered you like a jar.

        tude of the islands,

        and took me in.

        t and .

        the miracle.

        A know ain me

        in the cross of your arms!

        errible and brief my desire o you!

        and drunken, ensed and avid.

        Cemetery of kisses, till fire in your tombs,

        still ted boug by birds.

        Oten mouthe kissed limbs,

        oeetwined bodies.

        Ohe mad coupling of hope and force

        in which we merged and despaired.

        And tenderness, liger and as flour.

        And the lips.

        tiny and in it was my voyage of my longing,

        and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank!

        O of debris, everyto you,

        express, in    drowned!

        From billoo billoill called and sang.

        Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel.

        You still floill brike ts.

        O of debris, open and bitter well.

        Pale blind diver, luckless slinger,

        lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

        It is ture, the hard cold hour

        ens to all timetables.

        tli of the shore.

        Cold stars e.

        Deserted like t dawn.

        Only tremulous ss in my hands.

        Ohing.

        It is ture. Oh abandoned one!
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