O Southern Cross, O clover of scented phosphorus,
with four kisses this day penetrated your beauty
and traversed my hat and the shadows:
the moon went turning round a coldness.
Then, with my love, and my beloved, oh diamonds
of blue frost, serenity of Heaven,
mirror, you appeared, and night filled itself
with your four vaults of trembling wine.
O palpitating silver of fish, pure and polished,
emerald cross, parsley of the radiant shadows,
glow-worm nailed to the unity of Heaven,
rest in me, let us close our eyes, yours and mine.
Sleep with Man’s darkness for an instant.
Light, inside me, your four constellated numbers.
Translated by A. S. Kline