So that you will hear me 
my words 
sometimes grow thin 
as the tracks of the gulls on the beaches. 

Necklace, drunken bell 
for your hands as smooth as grapes. 

And I watch my words from a long way off. 
They are more yours than mine. 
They climb on my old suffering ivy. 

It climbs the same way on damp walls. 
You are to blame for this cruel sport. 

They are fleeing from my dark lair. 
You fill everything, you fill everything. 

Before you they are peopled in the solitude that you occupy, 
and they are more used to my sadness than you are. 

Now I want them to say what I want to say to you 
and to make you hear as I wasn't you to hear me. 

The winds of anguish still hauls on them as usual. 
Sometimes hurricanes of dreams still knock them over. 

You listen to other voices in my painful voice 
Lament of old mouths, blood of old supplications. 

Love me, companion. Don't forsake me. Follow me. 
Follow me, companion, on this wave of anguish. 

But my words become stained with your love. 
You occupy everything, you occupy everything. 

I am making them into an endless necklace 
for your white hands, smooth as grapes.