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■ The oak
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I shall die as I have lived,
And I will take refuge in myself Versus the coming darkness. Memories vanish like the dust, The dust that I am: dust and bone. Closing eyes make no sound, And so will I be noiseless. Cold and silence shall engulf my body And I will only think, eternally. Ideas, cascading over themselves In constant oblivion, about nothing. Our Father who art in heaven Do not abandon me to the night; Shall I be wheat before the scythe? Freedom from this sweet flesh, No sooner than later as thy will. Take me, take me to the light, The light of perpetual thought, To the great plane without horizon… While under the stone cross I rejoin in a soiled gulp And a grassy embrace with my Mother, And rest within the bosom of her Necropolis.
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