'... that leaping stream
Where sweet aromas rose and trembled,
And sometimes a bird, wearing water and slowness, its winter feathers.'
'... those gifts from the earth:
Indelible scents, gold clay, weeds in the thicket and crazy roots,
Magical thorns like swords.'
'... the bouquet you picked,
Shadows and silent water,
Bouquet like a foam covered stone.'
'That time was like never and like always.
So we go there, where nothing is waiting;
We find everything waiting there.'