For a swarm of dawns, for a few
wires on which are straggled
the threads of life looped into
hours and years, today dolphins in couples
leap with their young? Oh to hear
nothing of you, to run from your eyes’
dazzle! On earth it is otherwise, far.
Vanish I cannot, nor turn again; the vermilion
furnace of night
is tardy, the evening lingers,
prayer is torture, the flask
from the sea has not yet reached you
through the jutting rocks. Waves vacantly
crash on the headland at Finisterre.
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