The memory of you emerges from the night around me.
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.

Deserted like the wharves at dawn.
It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one!

Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.
Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.

In you the wars and the flights accumulated.
From you the wings of the song birds rose.

You swallowed everything, like distance.
Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank!

It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss.
The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse.

Pilot’s dread, fury of a blind diver,
turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank!

In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded.
Lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire,
sadness stunned you, in you everything sank!

I made the wall of shadow draw back,
beyond desire and act, I walked on.

Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost,
I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you.

Like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness,
and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.

There was the black solitude of the islands,
and there, woman of love, your arms took me in.

There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit.
There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.

Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me
in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms!

How terrible and brief was my desire of you!
How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid.

Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs,
still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds.

Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs,
oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies.

Oh the mad coupling of hope and force
in which we merged and despaired.

And the tenderness, light as water and as flour.
And the word scarcely begun on the lips.

This was my destiny and in it was the voyage of my longing,
and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank!

Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you,
what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned!

From billow to billow you still called and sang.
Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel.

You still flowered in songs, you still broke in currents.
Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well.

Pale blind diver, luckless slinger,
lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour
which the night fastens to all the timetables.

The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore.
Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate.

Deserted like the wharves at dawn.
Only the tremulous shadow twists in my hands.

Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything.

It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one.

There’s little to have but the things I had,
    There’s little to bear but the things I bore.
There’s nothing to carry and naught to add,
    And glory to Heaven, I paid the score.
There’s little to do but I did before,
    There’s little to learn but the things I know;
And this is the sum of a lasting lore:
    Scratch a lover, and find a foe.

And couldn’t it be I was young and mad
    If ever my heart on my sleeve I wore?
There’s many to claw at a heart unclad,
    And little the wonder it ripped and tore.
There’s one that’ll join in their push and roar,
    With stories to jabber, and stones to throw;
He’ll fetch you a lesson that costs you sore—
    Scratch a lover, and find a foe.

So little I’ll offer to you, my lad;
    It’s little in loving I set my store.
There’s many a maid would be flushed and glad,
    And better you’ll knock at a kindlier door.
I’ll dig at my lettuce, and sweep my floor—
    Forever, forever I’m done with woe—
And happen I’ll whistle about my chore,
    “Scratch a lover, and find a foe.”

                                    L’ENVOI:

Oh, beggar or prince, no more, no more!
    Be off and away with your strut and show.
The sweeter the apple, the blacker the core—
    Scratch a lover, and find a foe!

Now it's over, and now it's done;
     Why does everything look the same?
Just as bright, the unheeding sun,—
     Can't it see that the parting came?
People hurry and work and swear
     Laugh and grumble and die and wed,
Ponder what they will eat and wear,—
     Don't they know that our love is dead?

Just as busy, the crowded street;
     Cars and wagons go rolling on
Children chuckle, and lovers meet,—
     Don't they know that our love is gone?
No one pauses to pay a tear;
     None walks slow, for the love that's through,—
I might mention, my recent dear,
     I've reverted to normal, too.

Little white love, your way you’ve taken;
    Now I am left alone, alone.
Little white love, my heart’s forsaken.
    (Whom shall I get by telephone?)
Well do I know there’s no returning;
    Once you go out, it’s done, it’s done.
All of my days are gray with yearning.
    (Nevertheless, a girl needs fun.)

Little white love, perplexed and weary,
    Sadly your banner fluttered down.
Sullen the days, and dreary, dreary.
    (Which of the boys is still in town?)
Radiant and sure, you came a-flying;
    Puzzled, you left on lagging feet.
Slow in my breast, my heart is dying.
    (Nevertheless, a girl must eat.)

Little white love, I hailed you gladly;
    Now I must wave you out of sight.
Ah, but you used me badly, badly.
    (Who’d like to take me out tonight?)
All of the blundering words I’ve spoken,
    Little white love, forgive, forgive.
Once you went out, my heart fell, broken.
    (Nevertheless, a girl must live.)