Hollands Weekblad. Jaargang 4

A. Kuyten

From Es Vive to Figueretas-hill
Pisces in the moon,
and bodies on the shore,
drifting with a swelling sea.
Giggling,
your fingers cold as ice,
a fading voice as the rain
on a higher plain.

Did you see? There is
fire on the water and quiet
water in our heads. There is
a place free near me.

Did you hear? Did you
ask for it? Thirty-six times
this record: don't let the sun
catch you crying, and
a night-play: just
for a thrill.