Make me the guardian of your immensities,
make me one listening to the stone,
give me leave to feast my eyes
on the sea of your solitude;
let me accompany the course of the river
from the crying on both sides
far into the clamour of the night.
Send me into your empty lands,
trought which the wide winds go,
where great monasteries, like garments,
encompass unlived lives.
There I shall join the pilgrims,
from their voices and their figures
no longer separated by any deceit,
and, behind some blind old man,
shall go the way which no one knows.