Night, dark mother, of black clouds and agile lightning

Night, dark mother,

of black clouds and agile lightning,

whose cries of light to the sea bend:

Monstrous of silence I pray

three palms of the shore

desolate,

from where can I return simple,

like a sea fire, the look.

Cloudy must get it now

while the sea punishes its hares,

if you think the distress of a star

– the north wind blows the gold –

and I, without the hangovers

of the road,

In a happy kiss, angel came,

sweet breeze blow between slab lips.

On the same path they are travelers

a clear moon twilight

and the fleeing bird of the storm.

For a traveler himself

divide into days the road,

because the aurora and the flock of light pass

vespertino

on a single path.

Night, gloomy mother:

When the last minute of my drunkenness comes,

make me suffer here, by the shore

from the bitter water.

that, if I feel like crying,

I want to have blue ideas,

and in my words the ring

of the tides.