In the infinity of white, - snow, - spikenard, - and salt flat, - his fantasy went astray...

The colour white moves
over a soundless carpet
of pigeon feathers.

Eyeless,
no gesture,
stock-still,
he is a haunted by a dream.
But inwardly he quivers.

In the infinity of white
what a clean,
long gash his fantasy left !

in the infinity of white.
Snow.
Spikenard.
Salt flat.