Buried alive under the stars
in the mud of nights
do you hear my dumbness?
as if a skyful of birds were approaching.
I keep up this wordless appeal.
Will you ever unearth me
from the perpetual silence
under your foreign skies?
Does my complaint reach you?
Is my siege futile?
All around me glitter
reefs of fear.
Only let me count on you. God.
I want your nearness so much,
shivering
makes the love of loves even fierier.
Bury me in your embrace.
Do not leave me to the frost.
Even if my air is used up
my calling will not tire.
Be the bliss of my trembling
like a tree's leaves:
give a name, give a beautiful name
a pillow to this disintegration.
Ted Hughes and
