Build then the ship of death, for you must take the longest journey, to oblivion.

Reach me a gentian, give me a torch! Let me guide myself with the blue, forked torch of a flower down the darker and darker stairs, where blue is darkened on blueness even where Persephone goes, just now, from the frosted September to the sightless realm where darkness is awake upon the dark.

great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies. And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale-tender young and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of the beginning and the end.

How beastly the bourgeois is especially the male of the species.

For he seemed to me again like a king, Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld, Now due to be crowned again.

A snake came to my water trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pajamas for the heat, To drink there.

Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.

I never saw a wild thing Sorry for itself.

If only I am keen and hard like the sheer tip of a wedge Driven by invisible blows, The rock will split, we shall come at the wonder, we shall find the Hesperides.

Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me! A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.