Of water we shall speak into a dying night
As  water shall  fill our cheeks, our temples
And  inflate our bodies and our fleshly face
An  aquatic thing of our beginning mother.

Our mother  was water , we  emerald island.
We owe our origin purely to her green aqua.

The green water will soon be vaporous clouds,
That shall move over the Western mountains.

Marbles of words now clatter in puffed up cheeks. 
Our old memories guide talk in a predictive way, 
Like water sloshing in our cheeks, as if in parody.

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