reminds me of: ‘you gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
‘they called me the hyacinth girl.’
—yet when we came back, late, from the hyacinth garden,
your arms full, and your hair wet, i could not speak, and my eyes failed, i was neither
living nor dead, and i knew nothing,
looking into the heart of light, the silence.
oed’ und leer das meer.