The twelfth house was deeply marred
As of a forgotten ancient museum
Echoing the words of my kinswoman
Like a dusty book on a lectern

Whence part of that time it is of one
And part of that time is of other
When the Sun leaves me and enters in you
Then the season changes like feeling
Partly winter and partly spring

We are but fishes in a shallow marshland
Tied together on our suckling mouths
With rotten love and golden thread of stars
We are but the saints of the vernal equinox