Lower down,
Persistent, like a sick child’s wail,
The cry of the girl just below me:
“Don’t go, don’t go ...” the poor coward!
(ii)
How light the air is!
I’m dizzy ... my feet fly up ...
And this mad confusion of things topsy-turvey,
With the friendly comprehensible roots all hidden,
In this queer world where one can’t see how things happen,