From raw and roaring earth burst shooting sprouts
To wound my silence and to heal my voice --
To fill with green my eyes, blow out my throat
And throw me on the, hoarse from roaring, roots,
To turn me drunk with flooding blood of leaves,
To make me trace my curves with seeking hands
And beat myself with fingers in my shells
Until the burst of shooting sprouts in me.
From you flows, melted from the yearning, earth
To shake me, trembling, on the boiling waves,
To draw with green your routes to my red caves,
To make me sink in you, in you dissolve.