A thousand singing herons I saw passing
Flying overhead, sounding a thousand voices
Exulting: Glory be in the heaven, etc.
Once more
A child is born, and it has no father,
And it is right to rejoice: our past life appears
As a wake behind us, and we plunge on into the sea of pain.
I have felt this joy before, it is like the harsh grasses
On lonely beaches, this strange sweetness
Of medieval music, a hoarse joy,
Like birds’, or the joy of trackless seas,
Columbus’ ships covered with ice,
Palace children dancing among finely-worked gold:
As I listen, I am a ship, skirting
A thousand harbors, as once, sailing off the coast of Crete,
And turning in, we will find the steep climb from the harbor;
The voyage goes on. The joy of sailing and the open sea!