The perilous yellow sun follows with its slant eyesmasts of the shuddered grove steaming up to capsizein the frozen straits of Epiphany.
February has fewerdays than the other months; therefore, it's more cruelthan the rest.
Dearest, it's more soundto wrap up our sailing round the globe with habitual naval grace,moving your cot to the fireplacewhere our dreadnought is going underin great smoke.
Only fire can grasp a winter!
Golder unharnessed stallions in the chimneydye their manes to more corvine shades as they near the finish,and the dark room fills with the plaintive, incessant chirringof a naked, lounging grasshopper one cannot cup in fingers.1978, translated by the author.
