Off the coast the diver rests in his story
and sparsely draws the cliff behind the beach.
The wind cuts the story and wears and rubs
the leaves from off the plane trees - the window frame.

I had the wind behind me for this story.
The journey narrated a man walked over the mountain
and the tale gets bogged down in the sea. The wind

lords it over his grave. And the diver is trapped
among the stones, the helpers pop
up and the wind crushes the swell and the sea.

The diver's painting wind gusts off the coast.
The cliff's in bloom. And the grave is a step
to the coral in a cavern on the bottom
above the colour engraving of the flower curtain.

Translated by Paul Vincent