LVII Comments

I separate for a moment the water in the ditch: I don't want to see the reflection any more,
the spectral caravan, always me, or the daughter of the first man.
At the bottom, a legion of unknown birds begins a song of the forms that are not repeated,
and they want to teach me that song, to liberate me in the spiral that leads to one's own self-
abandonment. On either side are the beings united in wise hierarchies. They slowly take
possession of my body: first a foot, then the arms, the head and the neck in the vessel of the
youngest, and the place of the heart, in the middle, under the crown of the eagle. For the
vulture they reserve my belly. In that labor of condemnation there is a music I must know.
I will be a bird like them, half empty, half elemental, but, in me, others also will be.
I ask the name of this union, of the great symphony that begins and begins again, and by
way of an answer, the water arches itself on the puddle, clear, brilliant, beyond my desire,
and it allows me, it allows us to cross.
...
Read full text