The task evening is said to come to accomplish,

spreading darkness between heaven and earth,

until the sun rises the next morning to gather it up,

the night keeps all direction locked to protect itself as night should.

Summer nights are so short that it can’t lock the horizon properly;

two men escaped and sat on the midnight sandbanks.

Look, there are so many things to be said piled up like mountains,

if you spread them out, they would fill up the sea.

That’s about it; just look at this darkness filling everything.

I’m completely at a loss how it will end.

Accompanying the whispered voices,

all night long waves come breaking

therefore the boundless summer nights are far too short

Suddenly it’s morning, the sun comes rising,

the two men divide the shoreline to this side and that,

then the waves, seemingly its boundary,

break white, as they once more crumple up the day.