The ocean of desire
when it shimmers in blue water,
suddenly turns to ice in terrible cold.
When will you become creation?
The sprout of life beneath the earth
that keeps lifting its head in hope,
spring's merciless love
drags it toward the grave.
When will you become the rains?
One whose constant companion is wakefulness,
whom Rivotril cannot draw near;
I can tell you which star rises
in which watch of night.
When will you become sleep?
In the thirsting heart only one word
raises its lament…
When will you become love?