In my recollection we fancied the world ours;
We'd roam in desolate streets spending hours
In the dark, searching for shinning smiles to meet,
Looking for softly carpeted flats to have a seat.
Now we shelter ourselves in defeat,
Now we are but cowards.
...
Through the leaves down past the willow,
Up the creeping vine and slipping in the window,
Fragranced air comes to rest on my pillow.

Under the darkest shade of those trees
I glimpse a separate part of me;
He's wreathed in ecstasy.

I see me in the brightly feathered peacock forest
Roaming with that wind that the autumnal season sends.
Here he's happened on the rodents den,
Here it plummets without any foreseeable end.
...
Now I sit on stoep
Smoking my sins
Perhaps this is a loop
Is this where I've been?

There in that dishonest place,
Enthralled in that liquids hard embrace
I gazed on truths countenance
And was dubious of high romance.

Oh, me of mine
Farther than before
I lead myself
From the shore.

This vessel wanes I worry lest we waste the rest.
Look yonder the water how it begins to crest.

And what a vapid water did it look
At my first glance,
And now swelling in anger
Drowns recompenses fighting chance.