From the sea he comes, rushing toward the evening;
from the distant plains, far out in the abyss
he climbs toward the sky to which he always belongs.
And from that very sky he falls again upon the city.
Rain falls here below in a half-darkened hour,
while all the narrow streets hurry toward the morning,
and the bodies, which have found nothing at all,
disappointed and sorrowful part from one another;
and when the people, hated among themselves,
press together in a single bed to sleep,
then loneliness flows along with the rivers.
