Волны

           Hehasbrandishedhistorchinmurkyby-streetswheregirlssuddenlyseemtoshinewitharedandintoxicatingtranslucency.Oh,hehastossedhistorchhigh!Hehasledmewilddances!

           ’Butnomore.Nowto-night,mybodyrisestierupontierlikesomecooltemplewhosefloorisstrewnwithcarpetsandmurmursriseandthealtarsstandsmoking;butupabove,hereinmyserenehead,comesonlyfinegustsofmelody,wavesofincense,whilethelostdovewails,andthebannerstrembleabovetombs,andthedarkairsofmidnightshaketreesoutsidetheopenwindows.WhenIlookdownfromthistranscendency,howbeautifulareeventhecrumbledrelicsofbread!Whatshapelyspiralsthepeelingsofpearsmake--howthin,andmottledlikesomesea-bird’segg.Eventheforkslaidstraightsidebysideappearlucid,logical,exact;andthehornsoftherollswhichwehaveleftareglazed,yellow-plated,hard.Icouldworshipmyhandeven,withitsfanofboneslacedbybluemysteriousveinsanditsastonishinglookofaptness,supplenessandabilitytocurlsoftlyorsuddenlycrush--itsinfinitesensibility.

           ’Immeasurablyreceptive,holdingeverything,tremblingwithfullness,yetclear,contained--somybeingseems,nowthatdesireurgesitnomoreoutandaway;nowthatcuriositynolongerdyesitathousandcolours.Itliesdeep,tideless,immune,nowthatheisdead,themanIcalled"Bernard",themanwhokeptabookinhispocketinwhichhemadenotes--phrasesforthemoon,notesoffeatures;howpeoplelooked,turned,droppedtheircigaretteends;underB,butterflypowder,underD,waysofnamingdeath.