—My past is a stupid butterfly's overseas voyage.
My future is a garden where a cook cuts the throat of a rooster.
What do I have, with all my pain and rebellion?
—Take a moment, just one, and when its fine shell,
Two joined palms, slowly opens
What do you see?
—A pearl, a second.
—Inside a second, a pearl, in that star saved from time,
What do you see when the wind of mutability ceases?
—The earth, the sky, and the sea, richly cargoed ships,
Spring mornings full of dew and faraway princedoms.
At marvels displayed in tranquil glory
I look and do not desire for I am content.
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