To submerge in the ocean without the bottom

And the surface

To sink in the sea without the beginning

And the end

Where the shape and the sens

Is only a fiction

To see blind colours

To hear the words in comparison to which

People's tongues are only a mumble

And the logic ends with other creations

Of defective consciousness

You don't have to be a shade longing for light

You don't have to be an unmourned grave

A night's wilderness

A lonely river running a death's lane

A mournful song on lips of the mads

A scretched wound

Hide for me the silver of the deepest mirrors

Hide the jeveles which nobody found