Night Spring

Staring
into a spring at night
as into a face bewitched,
what did you find,
what did you discover,
what fires did you put out,
yet did not hear
the bird as it fell
struck by its own cry,
or by the fatally intoxicating
incense of the water.

Staring
into this mirror
that rivets your heart,
to what depths did you descend,
what water slaked your thirst,
were you captivated by the sound
of some new magic,
did you step from a stone of madness
into a dead sea,
so that now
in a spring at night
as in your own image
you search
for that flier who will
cruelly judge you.

And you see nothing,
nor do you hear
the nightingale
that calls to you
and in your blood
awakens hell.