Great forests you frighten me, like vast cathedrals:
    You roar like an organ, and in our condemned souls,
    aisles of eternal mourning, where past death-rattles
    sound, the echo of your De Profundis rolls.

    I hate you, Ocean! My mind, in your tumultuous main,
    sees itself: I hear the vast laughter of your seas,
    the bitter laughter of defeated men,
    filled with the sound of sobs and blasphemies.

    How you would please me without your stars, O Night!
    I know the language that their light employs!
    Since I search for darkness, nakedness, the Void!

    But the shadows themselves seem, to my sight
    canvases, where thousands of lost beings, alive,
    and with a familiar gaze, leap from my eyes.