SONNET LXXXII

My love, at the shutting of this door of night
I ask of you, love, a journey through a dark pound:
shut out your dreams: enter with your sky my eyes:
stretch out in my blood as if in a wide river.

Goodbye, goodbye, cruel clarity that was dropped
into the bag of every day of the past:
goodbye to every gleam of clocks or oranges:
welcome oh shadow, periodic friend!

In this boat, or water, or death, or new life,
one more time we unite, slumbering, resurrected:
we are the marriage of the night in the blood.

I don’t know who lives or dies, sleeps or wakes,
but it is your heart that delivers,
to my chest, the gifts of the dawn.