There is a joyful night in which we lose

Everything, and drift

Like a radish

Rising and falling, and the ocean

At last throws us into the ocean,

And on the water we are sinking

As if floating on darkness.

The body raging

And driving itself, disappearing in smoke,

Walks in large cities late at night,

Or reading the Bible in Christian Science windows,

Or reading a history of Bougainville.

Then the images appear:

Images of death,

Images of the body shaken in the grave,

And the graves filled with sea-water;

Fires in the sea,

The ships smouldering like bodies,

Images of wasted life,

Life lost, imagination ruined,

The house fallen,

The gold sticks broken,

Then shall the talkative be silent,

And the dumb shall speak.