The Poet Makes Himself A Seer Through

Then You'll Feel Your Cheek Scratched... A Little Kiss, Like A Crazy Spider, Will Run Round Your Neck... And You'll Say To Me : "find It !" Bending Your Head - And We'll Take A Long Time To Find That Creature - Which Travels A Lot.

Is It In These Bottomless Nights That You Sleep In Exile?

It Was The Voice Of Mad Seas, Roaring Immense,/ That Shattered Your Infant Breast, Too Soft, Too Human.

A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn

-but I've Just Noticed That My Mind Is Asleep.