1.

I have swirled on a jigsaw of shuffled pieces,

cavorting demented to some rhythms of their own.

In my ears there was the pulsing of orchestral bass-strings,

like the heavy winging of a distant swan.

2.

The rainbow of morning dissolved into teardrops;

I ran for to catch them in the tea-cup of my youth.

But the taste to me was bitter, and my tongue was soon revolted,

while a voice pronounced it as the taste of truth.

3.

From the womb of velvet I think I remember,

through the nettles of sorrow that I'm wanting to forget,

I am going to a garden where the eucalyptus

will have sprouted melons for my empty net.

4.

No, never again to be swimming in blindfold,

while trailing in wake to the lapping of their oars.

I am witness to a clamour, in its vehemence proclaiming

that the surf is surging to a crowded shore.

5.

The pottage brews and my buds are aquiver,

aroma as pungent as tangerine.

I'll defer the hour of feasting till the dawn of tomorrow.

though my song has ended, it has yet to begin.