(An English rendering of the supplied excerpt)

*Pindar's words, placed before the poem:*

*Do not, dear soul, pursue immortal life;*
*Rather, exhaust the means that lie within your reach.*

The tranquil roof where doves walk to and fro
Trembles between the pines, between the graves;
At noon, the just sun composes it in fire:
The sea, the sea, forever beginning anew!
What recompense, after a thought,
To gaze at length upon the calm of gods!

What delicate lightning consumes
Each diamond of imperceptible foam,
And what a peace seems there to take shape!
When a sun comes to rest above the abyss,
Pure works of an everlasting cause,
Time glitters, and Dream becomes knowledge.

Steadfast treasure, simple temple of Minerva,
Mass of stillness, visible reserve,
Watchful water, eye that holds within
So much sleep beneath a veil of flame—
O my silence! Edifice within the soul,
Golden roof, with a thousand tiles, O Roof!

Temple of Time, condensed in one sigh,
To this pure height I climb and grow accustomed,
My gaze encircling the sea around me;
And, like my supreme offering to the gods,
A serene radiance scatters
A sovereign indifference over the heights.

As fruit dissolves into delight,
As absence turns to sweetness
In a mouth where its shape dies away,
So here I breathe in
The smoke that one day will be mine;
And heaven sings to my consumed soul
Of shores forever changing into sound.

Beautiful sky, true sky, behold me changing!
After so much pride,
After such strange idleness,
Yet filled with power,
I surrender myself to the shining void.
My shadow slips across the houses of the dead,
And I grow familiar with its uncertain steps.

With my soul aflame in summer's fire,
I defend you, sunlit Justice,
Fully armed, merciless, and terrible!
I restore you, whole, to your former place.
Look!
Yet when the light returns to one side,
The other half mourns, darkened by shadow.

For me alone, for me alone—for my own self,
Near a heart from which my poem springs,
Between the pure event and the void,
There I await the echo
Of an inward triumph:
A cold, deep, sombre basin,
Empty within my soul,
Where the future forever murmurs.

And you, supposedly captive among the leaves,
Who secretly devour your fragile bonds,
When I close my eyes,
What body draws me toward its languid end?
What head is pulled from the bones of this earth?
A spark within me remembers my dead.

Closed, sacred, all fire without a body,
A fragment of earth offered up to light:
I love the place where lamps hold sway,
A place composed
Of stone, of gold, of the dark shade of trees.
Above the deep shadows, the marble seems to dance,
While the faithful sea sleeps beside the graves.

Radiant creature, drive the idolaters away!
While, alone, with a shepherd's smile,
You graze for hours your mysterious flock—
The white herd of these quiet tombs—
Keep the watchful doves away,
The vain dreams, the angels filled with doubt!

Here, when the future comes, it finds no work.
A pure insect carves the drought;
All has burned, dissolved, and scattered on the wind—
Into what ancient substance, I cannot tell.
Life stretches vast, intoxicated by absence,
And every bitterness is sweet to a spirit made clear.

[..The concluding movement..]

No, no! Arise! Into the onward-moving age!
Break, body, this contemplative form!
Drink, breast, the birth of the wind!
A freshness breathed from the sea
Restores my soul—O power of salt!
Let us run to the waves and leap alive again!

Yes! Great sea, endowed with delirium,
Panther skin, torn cloak,
With a thousand, thousand idols of the sun,
Absolute hydra, drunk on your blue flesh,
You bite your glittering tail again
Amid a tumult resembling silence.

**The wind is rising! We must try to live!**
The boundless air opens and closes my book;
The wave dares burst to spray from the rocks!
Fly away, dazzled pages!
Break, waves! Break with joyful waters
The tranquil roof where the sails once pecked!