She has not yet been born: she is music and word, and therefore the untorn, fabric of what is stirred. Silent the ocean breathes. Madly day?s glitter roams. Spray of pale lilac foams, in a bowl of grey-blue leaves. May my lips rehearse the primordial silence, like a note of crystal clearness, sounding, pure from birth! Stay as foam Aphrodite ? Art ? and return, Word, where music begins: and, fused with life?s origins, be ashamed heart, of heart!