Sound of night
Ink of all
Meaningless past
Of thy burning light
Circles of snow
Ways to death
Squares of rain
Lines to grow
Movements they share
Writing down the stars
Present acknowledged
Looking for thy glare
-------------------------------
Yet Orpheus faces
Eternal punishment,
Turning back on
The growing shadow
Of the tempest strings,
Thy lyre is about to dance,
Cross
And crush the green
Riverbanks.
(Edition I)
