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I too am but a trail of drift and debris,
I too leave little wrecks upon you, you fish-shaped
island.

11. I throw myself upon your breast, my father,
I cling to you so that you cannot unloose me,
I hold you so firm, till you answer me something.

12. Kiss me, my father,
Touch me with your lips, as I touch those I love,
Breathe to me, while I hold you close, the secret of
the wondrous murmuring I envy,
For I fear I shall become crazed, if I cannot emulate
it, and utter myself as well as it.

13. Sea-raff! Crook-tongued waves!
O, I will yet sing, some day, what you have said
to me.

14. Ebb, ocean of life, (the flow will return,)
Cease not your moaning, you fierce old mother,
Endlessly cry for your castaways—but fear not,
deny not me,
Rustle not up so hoarse and angry against my feet, as
I touch you, or gather from you.

15. I mean tenderly by you,
I gather for myself, and for this phantom, looking
down where we lead, and following me and
mine.

16. Me and mine!
We, loose winrows, little corpses,
Froth, snowy white, and bubbles,