On a dark night, the clock is not referred to, kindled in love with yearnings larks having long ascended – oh, happy chance! – even numbers are black. I went forth without being observed, our line shuffled over ash felt and into brushwood, my house being now at rest charred timber. In darkness and secure, cloud descending to mist, by the secret ladder, disguised behind the veil – oh, happy chance! – odd numbers are red. In darkness and in concealment, through stands of silver birch where time collapses, my house being now at rest vitrified now the heat has passed. In the happy night, the inner border in secret, when none saw me, where the scree has frozen nor I beheld aught, only those in front without light or guide, save that which burned in my heart. with snow slurred foot prints. This light guided me defining line into numbness more surely than the light of noonday adrenalin and blood-black sapped to the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me – unheimlich - a place where none appeared. Urheimat. Oh, night that guided me, there is no meter to the footsteps oh, night more lovely than the dawn, time out of step, off beaten and track oh, night that joined Beloved with lover, summitting to the pass on blooded knees and knuckles lover transformed in the beloved immaculate ice-burnt hearts! Upon my flowery breast, one of five wounds, kept wholly for himself alone, and given to all in time, there he stayed sleeping, and I caressed him, hand to shoulder to hand, and the fanning of the cedars made a breeze ringing within the horizontal sleet. The breeze blew from the turret and piercing of the searchlight strobes as I parted his locks; destined between the ribs; with his gentle hand he wounded my neck subcutaneous to core and caused all my senses to be suspended from the north but still rising toward the south. I remained, lost in oblivion; death cuts give way to paving; my face I reclined on the Beloved street furniture under the watch tower. All ceased and I abandoned myself, After the arrival at the crux, we were upturned, leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies. in wake, unfound.