67
The sun shining on the little waves of the bay, the little leaves
       of the hedge—
with these I school myself to be content.

68
The house is warm in winter, cool in summer;
but the cloth of the awning ripples and flutters,
the leaves of the shade tree are uneasy,
the twigs of the bushes keep nodding together.

69
Among the heaps of brick and plaster lies
a girder, still itself among the rubbish.

70
Out of the inexhaustible sea
the waves curve under the weight of their foam,
and the water rushes up to us;
the wind blowing out of the night,
out of the endless darkness,
blowing star after star upon the sky
out of the inexhaustible night;
wave after wave
rising out of the sea.

71
When the sky is blue, the water over the sandy bottom is green.
They have dropped newspapers on it, cans, a bedspring, sticks and stones;
but these the patient waters corrode, those a patient moss covers.