Translated by Edward Snow
And you wait, you wait for that one thing
that will infinitely enlarge your life;
that gigantic, the stupendous,
the awakening of stones,
depths turned round toward you.
The volumes bound in rust and gold
flicker dimly on the shelves;
and you think of lands traveled across,
of paintings, of the clothes of
women found and lost.
And then suddenly you know: it was then.
You rise, and before you
stands the fear and prayer and shape
of a vanished year.
