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Father
Coming to our room, from darkness,
            I find our bed empty in the first light from
                        The window, but still showing our form where our
Sleep has left an indentation, and it smells
            Of sleep and your hair. I find I cannot
                        Stand, for the smell is like smoke, and I fall into it,
As one falls from one dream into the next.
            Voices sound in far chambers of the house.
                        This is only a memory : first light. Go down to bed.

Speak, fragility! for the heaventree is blooming.
            There is nothing in this lovely phantasmagoria
                        Devoid of motion, mi esposa. Our passage in space,
A force we cannot feel. Throw your compass
            To the farthest dwindling lights, whose birth
                        We witness that are long dead and fleeing from us.
Nothing motionless will fall within its span.
            There is nothing to hold that does not flow away :
                        Love, the hours of our sleep, our dearest thoughts.
Embers fall through the night air, like rain.

            Such lights, we couldn't speak, and were glad!
                        They fell from our sight like a shell, and faded, and
I could not help myself, I kissed you,
            Where you stood such a small thing in that
                        Darkness, that I was afraid. I thought that if I ever
Lost you, I would be without coordinate,
            And I would never find my way back again.
                        What is it now, to be lost? The embers fall, like rain.
I remember it : I said to you, come with me from
            Here, we have to go away, but you would not go from
                        Where the light fell, saying : its gate is my last word.