)~`~`~`~`~`()

The quick night thunders,
the growing night folds my hands.
I have bound up my tongue;
should I loosen it again?

Hungers deeper than my body can contain alone
wrack me day and night...
and do I have a right to cry out,
among so many others crying?

Maybe you will be foolish enough
to pray for me, to sympathize
with my common and paltry madness,
to conquer the world through dreams.

I have not run out of language,
but today I do not want to speak.
Surely you can understand my body...
surely someone somewhere understands my body.

)~`~`~`~`~`()