The deities of dream
Take their afternoon stroll down this street
Leading to the sea.
This avenue is neither
Broad nor beautiful,
But the African-born wind rises
And leaves something here
Akin to the warm
And domestic happiness
Of those who don’t ask why.
The clouds sketch
The outline of the travelers
Who discover the waves and pray
For their dead children,
Or for the ones that never arrived,
Like this treeless street
Dragged up by the fury of storms,
Monstrous cadavers of cattle
Were still wide-eyed
As if begging heaven for a clemency
Which they were not again to see.
We set about prodding with our lances
—spikes of sugar cane—the drums of their bellies.
From the depths of the dead animals
Issued a great gust of happiness,
For we imagined that those corpses had come to realize,
At some moment during the deluge,
Amid the muddy and terrifying waters,
That there and only there was to be found freedom,
A roar of waste and silt-laden branches,
An avalanche of strange beasts
Which were never to tread
I am contained
in the cup of me.
Originally,
it is claimed, we came
from the sea.
Actually,
what emerged were versions
of something that could
turn into us. Nonetheless,
here I am, a full
cup of me,
a compound composed
of me, salt
water modified,
elaborated, prorated,
not quite yet
Mad eyes,
glazed and deep,
slice slowly,
dissecting each
motion.
Lost in
phosphorescent seas
whose waters
we have
long since
forgotten.
September sea wind:
the fading exhalations
of the orca
The vision of the sunset light
Of ghostly white :
The day is the twilight perfume
Too full to fly away.
O, Japan in milky July,
What an art of dream untold !
You know, over the blue and deep of the seas,
(O the wilderness of the Pacific!)
Like a lantern in love-air, she sways
In pain that is song.
Into the homelessness of the sea I awoke :
Oh, my heart of the wind and spray !
I am glad to be no-man to-day
With the laughter and dance of the sea-soul.
Dip the song of the sea and wind,
Throw it into my heart of longing !
I like to be with the clan of the waters and air :
Oh, my soul of the sea-soul and surge !
Roll in the wonder of the heart and sea, —
Oh, my joy of the sea-soul and flash !
Gather all the lights of the wind and sea,
To guard against the blackest night.
I turned my face not to see
Flowers or leaves;
'Tis the autumn eve
With the falling light.
How solitary the cottage stands
By the sea!
I row across the expanse of sea,
And the far-away sky, —
I row across the white billows of pain.
Song of sea in rain,
Voice of the sky, earth and men!
List, song of my heart.
I have grown pale and paler
Since one went away,
Who passed from me as softly
As daylight leaves the day.
My hair has lost its gleaming,
The light has left my face,
I am a grey-eyed wanderer
In any lonely place.
And on my heart is moonlight
Like white rain on the sea.
And I am of the evening
As the evening is of me.
A gentle moan, remembrance,
A folded wing is love,
Since my dream stepped into shadow
On the soft feet of a dove.
I am the river, I have been immense
With hope, great as the inner heart of spring-
The reeds have huddled to my whimpering
Amid the noon-time's staleness and suspense.
Between the ruins of magnificence.
Stained and autumnal, mournfully I sing,
And then among my white beards muttering
Grow old, and sleep into indifference.
I have no returning, onward is best.
Close to the dark, sweet earth in every place.
But with the sky's mark hidden in my breast.
And a star's shadow falling on my face.
Where shining spaces wait to fill with me,
Death is the beautiful and bitter sea.