And then all of them heard the voice;

                                                       It’s enough to speak about words

                                                       speak with words

                                            That’s it

                                            That’s enough

                                            That’ll do

And then (when?) all of them (who?) (did what?)

felt a doubt about what they heard

                                                       Only conjunctions

                                                       interjections

                                                       and particles

                                                       have been left out of question

All others that answered the question unsatisfactorily

agreed:    to go. to slip away, to take cover in the mouth of the source

                   like a snail

                   and to grow deaf to please (whom?)

                   from the ringing in the ears from the hooter of double o

                   to angle on thread for the paper auricles of the fool and the monster

                   the oyster of hearing will wither weary

                   by the lips of the secluded ear, by the doom of the ear-ring

                   and the Accountant of doleful sounds

                   will fall asleep, slip away by stealth and the rosy luster of fever

                   with the scorched frill on the faces ...

                   we shall not listen we shall not hear

                                          That's enough

                                          That'll do

                                          That's it

And then the sea was split, like the big shell

seducing by its blackness like Nescafe

and spliced the edges again. It was not painful to sink.

The siren wailed for them shabbes.

But then they went out on the shore with Blacksea-usher

and drove the wave on the shore the way one drives a puck on a field,

the way one drives a pack of sheep on a pasture in the mountains,

so they drove the coastal lambs like the Tartar-Mongolian yoke,

like the enemy, with clubs in front of them.

And then they returned to the place where they tortured the clay

and crushed the wine of the jug so that ten drops be spilled on the open spelling-book,

on its pages, to wipe off the wet hand-written lines as a wanderer wipes off sweat.

Let the Man of letters weep for them and the spellbound

Accountant be puzzled.

                            (This is the image of Bewilderment—harboring itself

                            and greedily turning pink, its swirling out the curve of flesh

                            and knitting ligature of the notched edges with the pitiful gilt)

And then to see it they glided into the depth

and feeling their way found the image of the gilded warm-colored rose

but then it seemed the rosy worm of guilt or perhaps the golden folds closed

and the sea fell and shut itself.

And then they raised the pyramid of silt above themselves;

there in the overturned hut of heaven in the Delta of the source of the Nile

there was a human hair, discovered after many thousand years,

and then all of them heard the voice:

                                                               It’s enough to speak about words

                                                               speak with words

                                          That’ll do

                                          That’s it

                                          That’s enow.

And now—are you still here?

On the shore Katiusha appears:

I do not want to lie in a shrine I want to lie in brine.