39

Feet not quite suspended, my mind is free
of all evil, except that which wraps round
it, in the air, in swarms, from which I flee–
the social feelings of a mind unsound:
I flow like a dream current, stream current,
rippling around the firmaments as time
measured from rock to rock, and the torrent
is me, is you, is ice, flow, rock and rhyme:
When will the warmth come? Where did you go to?
These are questions I ask myself to sleep,
from the golden lights to the frozen dew,
since the strongest ram is also a sheep:
I wear my shiny fleece close to the heart–
since we play with the truth, I play my part.

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