Dew-drinker, opium-eater,
I have seen your mouth transfigured
By the fragments of ancient fevers.

It was a wild, strange sound.

Honey-seeker, sun-worshipper,
I have heard the wind in white cedars
And black poplars.

It was the colour of wet narcissus.

River-walker, crocus-gatherer,
I have tasted the petals of acanthus
And Thessalian iris.

They were but circles of salt.