Now My Belly Is As Noble As

In The Secret Of Night, My Prayer Climbs Like The Liana, My Prayer Is, And I Am Not. It Grows, And I Perish. I Have Only My Hard Breath, My Reason And My Madness. I Cling To The Vine Of My Prayer. I Tend It At The Root Of The Stalk Of Night.

A Crippled Child Said, "how Shall I Dance?" Let Your Heart Dance We Said. Then The Invalid Said: "how Shall I Sing?" Let Your Heart Sing We Said Then Spoke The Poor Dead Thistle, "but I, How Shall I Dance?" Let Your Heart Fly To The Wind We Said. Then God Spoke From Above "how Shall I Descend From The Blue?" Come Dance For Us Here In The Light We Said. All The Valley Is Dancing Together Under The Sun, And The Heart Of Him Who Joins Us Not Is Turned To Dust, To Dust.

I Have All That I Lost And I Go Carrying My Childhood Like A Favorite Flower That Perfumes My Hand.

All Night I Have Suffered; All Night My Flesh Has Trembled To Bring Forth Its Gift. The Sweat Of Death Is On My Forehead; But It Is Not Death, It Is Life!

Now I Am Nothing But A Veil; All My Body Is A Veil Beneath Which A Child Sleeps.