I am afraid of my voice
and I seek my shadow in vain.
Will that shadow be mine
without body--what is happening?
And mine the lost voice--
What is the street setting on fire?
What voice, what shadow, what waking dream I have not dreamed
will be the voice and the shadow
and the dream that was stolen from me?
To hear the blood flow
of my closed heart--
Will I put my ear to my chest
like the hand takes the pulse?
My chest will be empty
and I disheartened,
and my hands will be hard
pulses of frozen marble.