The rows of cells are unroofed

a flute for the wind’s mouth

who comes with a breath of ice

from the blue caves of the south.

O dark and fierce day

the wind like an angry bee

hunts for the honey

in the pits of the hollow sea.

Waves of shadow wash

the empty shell bone-bare

and like a bone it sings

a bitter some of air.

Who built and laboured here?

The wind and the sea say

-Their cold nest is broken

and they are blown away-

They did not breed nor love

each in his cell alone

cries as the wind now cries

Through his flute of stone.