A pearly luminosity, and five endless lines live in perfect functionality,
but make the picture of a signpost hold the dust of dim-lit destiny.
It seems to have nothing in the day,
and only once night has come does the charm of this
common intersection show its color.
Grace in form and abundance in solidarity.

I walk across the moon in bare feet.
I stand looking at its beauty in the street.
The days go by, the winds, they change,
and part of me is yet estranged,
but still gleaming on is that lamppost;
Never to want or to die.
Never tasting joy, nor ever inclined to cry.

The pavement goes forth in solemn, straight lines,
like the unquenchable flow of space, and of time.
but just for one moment I see a face in the night.
It calls out my window and beacons with light.

Right right right they stand, save Catherine,
on the left. She’s set herself apart;
unyielding to command.
Nowhere else has a lamp-post been such a lady.