. . .The ship, slow and swift at once, conquers the water
but not the sky.
The blue remains behind, opening into living silver,
and once more is in front.
Fixed, the mast sways, always returning
–like the hour hand turning in even numbers
on the clock face–
to the stars themselves,
hour after hour, black and green.
One’s body, dreaming, returns
to the country it’s from, coming from the world
it does not belong to. One’s soul remains and
continues, always, through its eternal domain.

translated by Dennis Maloney & Clark Zlotchew