There is dust that is near us,

Waves breaking on shores just over the hill,

Trees full of birds that we have never seen,

Nets drawn down with dark fish.

The evening arrives; we look up and it is there;

It has come through the nets of the stars,

Through the tissues of the grass,

Walking quietly over the asylums of the water.

The day shall never end, we think;

We have hair that seems born for the daylight;

But at last the quiet water of the night shall rise,

And our skin shall see far away, as it does under water.