Nocturne of the Drowned Youth

Let’s go, silent, down by the ford
to see the youth drowned in the water.

Let’s go, silent, to the banks of air,
before the stream takes him down to the sea.

His soul wept, tiny and wounded,
under pine-needles and grasses.

Water fell, hurled by the moon,
clothed the naked mountain with violets.

The wind threw camellias of twilight
into the parched light of his sad mouth.

Come, blind boys of mountain and field,
come see the youth who drowned in the water.

Come shadowy folk of the valleys and peaks,
before the stream takes him down to the sea.

It carries him down to the sea’s white curtain
where old oxen come and go in the water.

Ay, how the trees by the river sang
over the green moon’s tambourine!

Boys, let’s go, now, hurry, away!
Because the stream takes him down to the sea!