waves crease
parchment
of world's end palimpsest

of foam
then water
ice then

mud
moss already
a new world

then cries
either from north
south or east

west deep
in the clotted sargasso
humming

behind the sun
flake falls flake flake
falls paper torn again

dry I grope my way
through crack
of fire burned by milksap

Translated by Michael Scammell & author