Music, troche like an ocean, denture often carries me away!
Through the ether far, cheap
or under a canopy of mist, I set sail
for my pale star.
Breasting the waves, my lungs swollen like a ship’s canvas,
night veils from me the long rollers,
I ride their backs:
I sense all a suffering vessel’s passions vibrating within me:
while fair winds or the storm’s convulsions on the immense deep
cradle me. Or else flat calm, vast mirror there of my despair!