115 (when in the depth)


WHEN IN THE depth of the night

in the phantasmal light of the sick-bed

appears your wakeful presence,

it seems to me

that the countless suns and stars

have guaranteed my little life:

then I know that you will leave me

and the fear spreads from sky to sky,

the fear of the terrible indifference

of the All.

 

 

  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •