It Was The Voice Of Mad Seas,

O Seasons, O Castles, What Soul Is Without Flaws? All Its Lore Is Known To Me, Felicity, It Enchants Us All.

And From Then On, I Bathed In The Poem Of The Sea, Star-infused, And Opalescent, Devouring Green Azures

Yet This Is The Watch By Night. Let Us All Accept New Strength, And Real Tenderness. And At Dawn, Armed With Glowing Patience, We Will Enter The Cities Of Glory.

The Poet Makes Himself A Seer Through A Long, Vast And Painstaking Derangement Of All The Senses

It Is Wrong To Say: I Think. One Ought To Say: I Am Thought. I Is Someone Else.