I was treading a dark clay that trembled and I, sinking and coming out, decided that you should come out of me, that you were weighing me down like a cutting stone, and I worked out your loss step by step; to cut off your roots, to release you alone into the wind.

Ah in that minute, 
my friend, a dream
with its terrible wings
was covering you.

You felt yourself swallowed by the clay,
and you called to me and I did not come,
you were going,
motionless,
without defending yourself
until you were smothered in the quicksand.