The Boat in the Evening [antikvár]

First Preface My first dream. My delicate dream of gliding water and my dream. The heart dwells beside gliding rivers. The rivers eat into the shores. Shrinking shores lose their name. There will always be shores for a dream of gliding water and my dream. That waiting timé in the serpent's den, where children stood anxiously, waiting for the serpent to come out. Nothing came out through all the years. Never out under Man's heel. A long time ago. Now it is late, and the serpent's delicate tracery of bones gleams in the dark,