I who believed that the light was mine
now find myself thrown into darkness.
Ember of the sun, starry, fiery
joy of foam, of light, of desire.
Blood, light, rounded, mature:
swift yearning, with neither shape nor shadow.
Outside, light is buried in light.
I feel darkness alone shines on me.
Darkness alone. With no star. With no sky.
Beings. Bulks. Tangible bodies
within the flightless breeze,
within the tree of impossibilities.
Purple frowns, mourning passions.
Teeth thirsty to be red.
Darkness of absolute bitterness.
Bodies like blinded wells.
There is not enough space. Laughter has collapsed.
It is no longer possible to reach upwards.
The heart strains impatiently
to broaden the narrow blackness.
Flesh without direction which goes in waves
towards the sinister, vacant night.
Who is the ray of sunlight that can break in?
I search. I find no sign of day.
Only the glow of clenched fists,
the gleam of teeth lying in wait.
Teeth and fists from all sides.
Mountains close together, as if shaking hands.
Opaque is the struggle with no thirst for tomorrow.
Muffled heartbeats, so far away!
I am a prison with a window
over a great, roaring solitude.
I am an open window, listening,
trying to see life through the gloom.
But there is a ray of sunlight in the struggle
which always conquers darkness.