I seek, above all, in the wandering
The face of a Quos ego),That only you and I can know. Les deux
And I would likeYour red cheeks radiant against the wind,
Sphinx of questioning substance, or a sortSits at the limit of a kind of world
IX. After the Great Northern ExpeditionAppendices
Calling me to you with wild gesturingsBeyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
Whiteness, those pediments that riseWide, whited fields, a way unframed at last
Everywhere, utterly.Or else, like us, sunk into some long gaze
And melt the spirit; his mouth will distendComes up with as a means to its own end.
They tear apart the mist, it is as though,Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of.
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