When once more the name "nature" was appliedto the desolate-as-ever landscape,immediately, the name began to weather away.What is still losing its name,and what has already lost its name,those two strands entwinearound the true name.Those who have wings stay put,howling out their condition over and over,"How fragile we are!"though no one hears them.Thousands of ripples tella story of benthic anguish.The ripples beach themselveson the name of each anguish,vowels scatter by the thousandsover the earth.
