forest somber with summons
with cries
eats the dark heart of the night.
Vinegar and milk, the sky, the sea,
the dense mass of the firmament,
everything's conspiring this trembling
that lurks in the dense heart of shadow.
A heart that's had it, a hard star
split in two and bursting in the sky,
the limpid sky that cracks
at the summons of the pealing sun,
makes the same sound, makes the same sound
as the night and the tree in the center of the wind.