Thus the madwoman

When day and night appear as goddesses to bid farewell and draw the curtain on each moment,
immediately after... it is no ordinary feat to overcome such quicksand's generosity,
but sensing even slightly the pull of a motionless beloved, that twilight hour of parting
appears far too excessive an eyesore indeed!

If on some final evening I bid farewell to the astrologer
and, keeping the half-wakeful moon as witness, say:
'You are the sleep of wakeful mind on my full moon day, the complete saga wandering the great void,
the supreme hero-bull atop mountain peaks, seeking refuge in this sacred land—
across the entire earth you alone are the sovereign of my only fixed destination!'
—then will you reduce it all to dust as merely forgotten words
and return me, mad woman that I am, back to my proper place, beloved?