deprived of a tongue, I breathe
all the more clearly.

ondine, ondine, here is your mirror.
you think your lips are your shield,
your heart a weapon sharply whet?
is that sunlight through water in your pale hair,
or is it a drown'd fishwife's tangle?
have your cheeks, my ondine, the blush of white rose,
or the underside of a fish's belly,
white and clammy in the gloam?
oh, do your eyes draw me in like grey clouds thundering,
or do they cut me like shards of beer-bottle glass by the sea?
ondine, sweet ondine, pray tell it to me!