To a single colossal oculus,

without lids, without face, without brow,

without halo of marginal flesh,

man is finally limited now.

And without any fear having glanced

at the earth (quite unlike the old freak

that was dappled all over with seas

and smiled with the sun on one cheek),

not mountains he sees and not waves,

not some gulf that brilliantly shines,

and not the silent old cinema

of clouds, and grainfields, and vines,

and of course not a part of the parlor

with his kin’s leaden faces—oh, no,

in the stillness of his revolutions

nothing in that respect will he know.

Gone, in fact, is the break between matter

and eternity; and who can care

for a world of omnipotent vision,

if nothing is monogrammed there?