The night brings its own openings,
its own fissures of chance,
to those initiated in its bittersweet fruits.
On a bridge strung from dark star to dark star,
youth blooms from the icy flow,
and I am thrust from my memories,
and I am shown the beginning of my life.
I am filled with the beauty of
what is to come,
and the immensity of my soul.
The galaxies full of sadness,
that until now waited,
embrace me like a comrade,
while the night sings in a riot of stones below.
And I am now the sensation
no one could describe,
and I am equipped for my life
with a blindfold of journeys,
and I wear a robe of mountains.