Waltz

I touch hatred like a covered breast;

I without stopping go from garment to garment,sleeping at a distance.

I am not,

I'm of no use,

I do not knowanyone;

I have no weapons of ocean or wood,

I do not live in this house.

My mouth is full of night and water.

The abiding moon determineswhat I do not have.

What I have is in the midst of the waves,a ray of water, a day for myself,an iron depth.

There is no cross-tide, there is no shield, no costume,there is no special solution too deep to be sounded,no vicious eyelid.

I live suddenly and other times I follow.

I touch a face suddenly and it murders me.

I have no time.

Do not look for me when drawingthe usual wild thread or thebleeding net.

Do not call me: that is my occupation.

Do not ask my name or my condition.

Leave me in the middle of my own moonin my wounded ground.