Great woods, your winds oppress me like the heft Of great cathedral organs; and our hearts Shaken with dying groans, are echo chambers Vaults where your "De Profundis" still vibrates I hate you, ocean, all your bounding tumults I find within: the bitter laughter of A man defeated, all his sobs and insults I hear resounding in the sea's vast laugh How you would please me, Night, without those stars Whose light speaks in a language that I know? I only seek what's empty, black and bare But darkness is itself a canvas where My eyes project a thousand vanished souls Who look at me with a familiar air, air