Long after the days and the seasons, and people and countries.

 

The banner of raw meat against the silk of seas and arctic flowers; (they

do not exist).

 

Recovered from the old fanfares of heroism,-- which still attack the

heart and head,-- far from the old assasins.

 

--Oh! the banner of raw meat against the silk of seas and arctic flowers;

(they do not exist).--

 

Bliss!

 

Live embers raining in gusts of frost.-- Bliss!-- fires in the rain of

the wind of diamonds flung out by the earth's heart eternally carbonized

for us.-- O world!

 

(Far from the old retreats and the old flames, still heard, still felt.)

 

Fire and foam. Magic, veerings of chasms amnd clash of icicles against

the stars.

 

O bliss, O world, O music! And forms, sweat, eyes and long hair floating

there. And white tears boiling,-- O bliss!-- and the feminine voice

reaching to the bottom of volcanos and grottos of the arctic seas.

 

The banner...