On and on the waves are coming
to play what they played before—
the whiteness of the clouds above
is now manes of rolling foams.
And there, in the self-same color
flowing from the waist below—
someone’s standing on the shore,
anew avowed, an act of kinship
by a marriage of the air and the sea.
Sans fin et pourtant, enfin—affinity
has been found—dans le blanc
des gémissements et de la glisse
qui est sensible, plus ou moins,
là... tellement ornéé de nuages.
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