Thief of the Adour

Sun speaks:
Rape me, my dare-devil blood and don’t be afraid to give an old comrade
the rapacity itself as the recent companion on a new way.
But stay away from these most torrent shores and be afraid to fall with your
long ago
overflowed comrade into a furious depth of the sea to a recent companion on a
new way.
Ocean speaks:
My — lost sun — drowning man — exhaust!
A war mob speaks:
To deprive you means to rob me — oh, how foolish! To keep distance stands for
an end:
For the breach between the oldest companion and a new way.
So stay away — my mind for an end — my naive senility.
I will surrender now for the poor sea to destroy the oldest companion and to
create a new way.
Way will create above all — way will create for me
Way will create above all — way will create for itself…
Ocean speaks:
Oh, my weary wanderer, my exhausted sun shape — lay down in this deep bed;
sleep!
And ocean continues:
I would shade mine from this remote and yet new thing but my only defence must
be your death.
So I must carry down whatever has been gnawed through
to help an old companion for a new thing.
Ocean speaks again:
So my — lost son — drowning man — exhaust!
A gust of wind screams:
Shades came and the sun tried to escape from these huge crowds.
But hope was the most foolish and last weakness of a dead companion and a dead
way.
A war mob speaks:
I’m the thief of the adour — I’m the thief of the deceased sun!
I’m the thief of the adour — I’m the thief of the drowned sun!