It will Be Poured Out as a Full Work

It will be poured out as a full work
all of me –soul of a single accent!–
multiple in voice that orders and messes up
tremulous, on the verge of fleeing from the wind.

And to find myself again –all mine!–,
scattered in me, with the single word:
sweet, dewy earth,
white in the foam of my own wave.

And the impetus that restrains and unbridles
without waiting: everything in the moment:
and here and there, slave –no chain–
and free in the prison of the firmament!