I will grow myself quiet leaves
		in the diffiicult silence of chastity.

		I will hide in the immense namelessness
		though each tree murmurs to him my name.

		I am the bed of leaves he can never scorch,
		not even with his eyes of fire.

		I am the naked face of the flower; a cross.
		He cannot escape by reaching me.

		The god and the goal; the lover and the loved;
		the pursuit and the flight, entwined.

		Though a god, he will die in the depths of my bark.
		I will glisten his face on my leaves.

		Every eagle will have his eyelids.
		Every event--his speed.

		Each one of the thousand suns
		will pursue me as he has chased.

		Each one of the symbols of silence
		will learn his name I refuse to bear.

		I am he: the sun, its immense bowl
		pouring out selves as from a fount of chastity.

		He is I: the ever-green song in flight,
		the sun forever pursuing me.