After forty nights and forty ...

After forty nights and forty
nights the poor black waters of tumult retreat.
After great weeping as after a great storm--permit
me to rise up and travel As far as possible. Leave without
a thing and without memory, innocent Under a new
name, recently made known clouds and in my
strange body, pure: "light, light, light
of the world bear me in your descendants and the words
of a language no one has used await
me" In the