that nothing was nothing but a means to think being
this is what you thought but it is not enough
because of value you have to reflect on nullity
not as a fractional coin of thought but as something produced
even though invented and put there squarely by shadowy thoughts 
                                                                                        nullity remains as construed
nullity means that which lacks memory silent like walls cries float around
existing existence and mere fancies like this
sold in kid's shoes when the grammar was appearing of thought
exercise in the attican air and beyond this murmurings 
                                                                           towards highly esteemed guardians
forgottenness takes it she the eraser of all important writings
as a counterpart of memory not nullity
indispensible rather when you step out of the forest of shades
but on secret paths they carried coined mióney across the mountains 
                                                                                               when delphi turned mute
and stoned with sarcharya the word that was thrown like a stone
o parmenides whiteheaded ontologist who can blame you for zenon
and you rayheaded one that plato turned positive
but the eagle remains what she was
the types slid like messengers on shimmering surface to their goal and returned
sefiroth all namable things indivisible ready for you
the baldinette by which you the starving one held on to your happiness
                                                                             on the tower of the palazzo vecchio
in the room overlooking the via cavour and next to the gate of the gardens
the smiling mouth in the oval face and under boddhisattva eyelids 
                                                                                         the sky-like blue of her eyes
silk hair and more beautiful than brunelleschi's coppola his head
and not the prego of the morining in the pensione aglietti
not caffelatte and pane the flowered curtains of a time not lost

in a curve the ill flowed around me and through the shelf passed the saale
there you saw my childlike heart
an unstubborn one it looked for itself in the scriptures and wanted to die with all
smilingly you in the sky took up with it
for to read it has not learned up to now and still has to practice
fully nothing it knew of your present rest