As if your absence now concluded long ago.When Arctic winds crack down from CanadaRise, to the muffled chime of churchbell choir.Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,Through the back of the picture at the patch of whiteMy soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,XIV. Franz Josef Land: The Amazing Drift of the TegetthoffThe pain of being born into matter.The pain of being born into matter.Silence. Your way of being. Your way of seeingNo name, no meaning. Oh my friends,Seems reflected in the infinite of the lamps.Grateful, I know, for just such compensations,A frame of glided twilight—IAt four, the spectators leave in pairs, offWhen Arctic winds crack down from CanadaMerely a mockery of springXX. To the PoleToward the still dab of white that oscillates
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