I kissed the summer dawn.
    Nothing stirred yet before the palaces.  The waters were dead.  The camps of shadows hadn't given up the woodland road.  I walked, stirring warm and vivid breaths, and the gemstones watched, and wings went up soundlessly.
    My first adventure, on the path already filled with cool and pallid lights, a flower told me her name.
    I laughed at the blond waterfall, dishevelled though the firs: at its silvery height I recognised the goddess.
    Then I lifted her veils one by one.  On the path, waving my arms.  Over the plain, where I betrayed her to the cock.  To the city, she fled amongst the steeples and domes, and, running like a beggar over the marble quays, I hunted her.
    Above the road, near the laurel thicket, I encircled her with her massed veils, and I felt a little of her immense body.  The dawn and the child fell down at the base of the woods.
    When I awoke, it was noon.