Ash borrowings continued the pain I long for replaced not once but many a time the end of days rather than lose her father met unworthy end for an hour the dream fulfilled I long for that lovely time, alas, all men bewail thee dead, ah, let him come again, he must not die A language of quenched fire for all and none how innocent they are a populace of tyrants and lickspittles, nothing true about them, they stole the limelight ligatures impressed upon the soft skin couldn't find any amusement if only it were granted to me, to be return with the spring, waken Nothing's in the voice. Nothing. of women imprisoned in the arms of men in the prospect of feeding transported, where'er thou wanderest all the songs we used I sang to earn my bread I grew distant from the singing there fell a long silence Life gives all men everything, but most do not know it. My voice is tired, but listen. I was overwhelmed by the song of the man who lay dying. In his song I could see my own labors, the slave girl who gave herself to me, the men I killed, the cold dawns upon the water, the sky and sea and land above and below and around me every day and every night. If you hear, if you can see, can read them and understand, you will find in them everything you want, you will learn to be holy in this world. a lot of fowls: what an idea! on whatever shore to sing an old schoolmaster sat hidden in his little garden, wrote three hundred books, who knows, perhaps out of rage or ambition, it took a hundred years There is no such place. Not a fence to left or right. seized her by her hair stirring raging surf his boat overturned, weak cordage, thin canvas, broken planks, Through the ongoing, ongoing and interminable plains, everywhere on earth the plains are one and the same. beat her till she tired of it drowning men and wrecking ships on which your lives depend the same day isn't here and returns through a whole campaign of the world's life and death, mocked by revellers not the sea divine, of human shape sent forth flames of fire, give way, what but a grave forever working all the dim day long they hold me up to ridicule served by fishlike sea spirits, who sacrifice in secret flood waters overwhelming, in the deep, deep sea, devoured by creeping things, soul gone and gone where? Where will your souls abide if you were drowned at sea to-morrow? well, I could never write a verse, I cannot restrain my sobbing who feed upon your bloated floating flesh howling wilderness of waters on what night armed in metal and masked, to intimidate from the start Do not be afraid, go now, We spent the morning waiting, prompted by an idleness in nature, on what day an assailant who would dare to cast an eye on this invincible virgin, I will deliver you into the brighteness of day. stared down the hillside, a slate slab polished by the tide, inscrutably inscribed with symbols we couldn't decipher because his papers hadn't yet arrived. in what place betray the solitary invalid's masquerade at what moment We have laboured in vain. If you put your foot upon it, you will see how it acts. shall we meet again? I can see two apparitions dressed in white this rock only seems to rest because the ground opposes a force to it greater than the pressure it exerts. who accompany the maiden always and of nature, nothing is ever at rest, defend her from all assaults. to be real values, but in the meantime you've lived and you've acted, and activity is a universal law of imaginary roots, meanwhile the day goes by, you reach imaginary quantities which you've taken The mightiest men have hitherto bowed with reverence before the saint. Deep Riddle of Mysterious State. And ere the Morn cradles the Moon. of happiness can be compared to the solution of a quadratic equation in which you reach a certain number Why did they thus bow? like Daedalus, on strange wings, he completed his equation and asked us what we were waiting for, and why we weren't leaving. no law governing the growth, the pursuit also said to be a learned mathematician, to possess the power to cure disease, a feeling of unease which never ceases growing The spot is completely open to the sky. The ancient flagstones lay smiling and golden-tinted in the sunlight. to control the sea by incantation, to foretell the future, to change into any animal, to perform other awesome magic, able to traverse on or under water, or so told wandering storytellers, in ancient-times upon the isle of the apple trees she dwelt where still he convalesces, restless to return he lived another kind of life, he ate his supper in a room blazing with lights The road rutted and uneven. and twenty naked girls to change his plate! Poor man, straight to bed he went, Did they realize? gave each church its turn, Into the pure dimension, immune, serene, to sky worn images, white shadows sown with oblivion memorized the miracle in vogue, facades of space with the shade of a lost hand we were in error: that was not the man. a river glow like some goddess incarnate once burnt to ashes her breasts a fortress guarding the gates of heaven Who is this woman?