I dug, but nowhere it departs

Mixed with white as water, mixed with stars-stretched
The night stretched over the peopled calculation in its individuality
Then a Euclidean one… the Eurylochus.
And to it, influenced by gravitational conclusions
Fittingly called the bounds of deepest the dead

In Ithaca, sterile velocities of relativity wretched the over the best men,
Oh, did their kingdom come,
They are not independent but, sheep weeping to Heaven.
Forgive those who sin sun-rays, the universe is only probable,
For, souls are Euclidean Ones, and if this notion is uniform, the real universe will be quasi-spherical.

I have it, we already know from our chosen co-ordinate system,
The universe might fittingly differ only slightly from a Will that will be necessarily finite.
With a simple connection between girl brides stained with recent tears and
Youths of the uniformly distributed old matter,
The heaping the velocities of the stars behave analogously to Kimmerian lands