I am scattered in its whirl.

I am scattered like

the hot shrivelled seeds.

The shrivelled seeds

are spilt on the path—

the grass bends with dust,

the grape slips

under its crackled leaf:

yet far beyond the spent seed-pods,

and the blackened stalks of mint,

the poplar is bright on the hill,

the poplar spreads out,

deep-rooted among trees.

O poplar, you are great

among the hill-stones,

while I perish on the path

among the crevices of the rocks.

[8]

[8]

PURSUIT

 Prev. P 12/64 next