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This text was added to the website: 2023-03-08
Line count: 8
Word count: 51
Black as the pupil drinking the light I love you, keen-eyed night! Grant me a voice to sing your praise O primal mother of songs! The bridle of the four winds lies in the palm of your hand. Calling you, declaring your glory, I am only a seashell whose ocean has not yet died. Night! Too long have I gazed on human eyes! Set me on fire, black sun, night!
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This text was added to the website: 2023-03-08
Line count: 11
Word count: 70
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