The lip is the lip's friend, the hand the hand's
Lying next each other each one understands
To whom he belongs - each one of the buried dead.
Unwillingly the night goes overhead;
The earth asserts itself, but hesitantly ;
And leaflessly the leaves move on a tree.
God stirs the wind and space: but He is high
Above the forest's distant forest sigh.
The wind says this to space:
'I'll not be back
Across this forest while the night shines black.'
Still darkness thickens, pierced by small starlight.
The seagulls flying over the sea are white.
One says : 'I've heard the fate of stars foretold.'
The next: 'I've watched the heavens themselves unfold.'
The third is silent, but because it knew
Two bodies, glowing in the darkness, who
Wove darkness into their embrace: it found
Them made of the caress in which they wound.