first is the awakening
from the restless, dreamless, and almost hermetic sleep
(the exit of the hermit out of his cave
into the cold morning air)

then, the day turns out into an island
with happy youngmen running to the shore
we hide away from them, in a boat
with the waves covering us up, my love

death comes like a holiday
like a hungry and tired seagull
through the light slowly baking
our wreathed arms and burnt lips

...and everything is so sad and wonderful
in the light lying like the shadow of a tree
over the ocean