The Sea

O lady of the waters,

In the lean, green hills

there crested the waves.

With your dark frost Kashmir,

planetary tides

still beneath your countenance,

therein is the sun,

and a whisper wakes.

Come, lady, the race

or the coins remain,

below the frailties

with whose colors.

We plunge the earth out,

with hem-falls and combs

and red explodes in the waves,

mingled and brought.

Yet wake thee to the waters;

you should sweep

from the chords to space

a globe of crystal

in unison with stars.

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