The world was carried by two fishes and a turtle
on Sundays I did not cut my nails, did not
build from a nail a ship for the devil.

My own body, the stolen steps in my arms
I shall go from the realm of Morpheus to the
middle of the palm, under the green thumb.

For the moon has been given the night, the escaping
strand, for me a golden shield. Twelve men
stood on guard when the black wolf gnawed off
my harness.