I went a-walking by the sea
to understand what it would say
both to myself and to the scree.
In perilous deep inquiry
kicking up sand and foamy spray
I went a-walking by the sea.
The shore extending confusedly
a murmur as well as an affray
both to myself and to the scree
came hurtling from beyond a lee —
two lovers in the dunes at play.
I kept a-walking by the sea.
Poseidon’ whorls in abalone,
his heavy hand of waved dismay
fell on myself and on the scree.
A sea of troubles troubled me,
but calmly washed my worries away
as I went walking by the sea,
besides myself, besides the scree.