We used to believe so firmly, you and I, in the unity of existence;
but now I glance back - and it is astounding -
how impersonal in color, how unreal in pattern,
you have become, my youth.

When one examines the matter it is like the haze of the wave
between me and you, between the shallows and the drowning;
or else I see a receding highway and you from behind,
as you peddle right into the sunset on your silly racer.

You are no more myself, you are a mere outline,
the subject of any first chapter, but how long we believed
in the oneness of the way
from the damp gorge to the mountain heather.