Ah first ardors faintly impressed on my sheets. Oh female angels
Who signaled to me from on high to advance fearlessly into the thick of things
Since even if I were to fall from the window, the sea
Would be my horse again
The sun knows. It descends into you to see. Because outside things
Are a mirror. Nature dwells in the body and takes revenge from it
As in holy wildness like a lion’s or Anchorite’s
Your own flower grows
which is called Thought
(No matter that, by studying, I have arrived where
I always used to arrive by swimming)
Wise men have a finite space
And the same space is given to children but
Infinite!