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I. The Arrival
SHINING highways | |
| Sing to your step, | |
| Windows beckon, | |
| Doorways open a square embrace. | |
| |
| Doors laugh gently | 5 |
| Swinging together | |
| Behind you. | |
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II. There’s A Guest
There’s a flag on my tower, | |
| And my windows | |
| Are orange to the night. | 10 |
| They are set in grey stone that frowns | |
| At the black wind. | |
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| Inside, there’s a guest at my hearth, | |
| And a fire | |
| Painting the grey stone gold. | 15 |
| My windows are black | |
| With the hungry night peering through them. | |
| |
| Blackness lurks in corners, | |
| Wind snatches the sparks, | |
| Tongs and poker jangle together | 20 |
| Like the iron bones | |
| Of a man that was hanged. | |
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III. They Who Dance
The feet of dancers | |
| Shine with laughter, | |
| Their hearts are vibrant as bells; | 25 |
| |
| The air flows by them | |
| Divided, like water | |
| Before a gleaming ship. | |
| |
| Triumphantly their bodies sing, | |
| Their eyes | 30 |
| Are blind with music. | |
| |
| They move through threatening ghosts, | |
| Feeling them cool as mist | |
| Against their brows. | |
| |
| They who dance | 35 |
| Find infinite golden floors | |
| Beneath their feet. | |
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IV. Pianissimo
I took Night | |
| Into my arms, | |
| Night lay upon my breast. | 40 |
| |
| If Night had wings | |
| She would have brought me | |
| Stars for my hair. | |
| |
| The stars laughed | |
| Lightly | 45 |
| From far away— | |
| About my shoulders | |
| White mist curled. | |
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V. Portrait by Zuloaga
Death lies in wait | |
| For those who do not know | 50 |
| What they desire, | |
| And Hell for those who fear | |
| What they have taken. | |
| |
| These hands are wrinkled | |
| From stretching forth, | 55 |
| Brown | |
| From the winds | |
| Blowing upon them. | |
| |
| They are strong with seizing. | |
| They do not tremble. | 60 |
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VI. Gestures
Let there be dancing figures | |
| On our wine-flask, | |
| Swastikas on our rug, | |
| Inscriptions in our rings | |
| And on our dwelling. | 65 |
| |
| Let us build ritual | |
| For our worship, | |
| Pledge our love | |
| With vows and holy promises. | |
| |
| If we break oaths | 70 |
| Let it be darkly | |
| With threatening gestures. | |
| Thus we ignore | |
| That we love and die | |
| Like insects. | 75 |
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VII. Veils
I shall punish your blindness | |
| With a veil. | |
| |
| I shall choose words that join | |
| Gaily, word to word, | |
| I shall weave them flauntingly | 80 |
| Into veil upon veil, | |
| I shall wind them defiantly | |
| Over my lips, over my eyes. | |
| |
| You shall not see your name | |
| On my lips, | 85 |
| You shall not see your image | |
| In my eyes! | |
| |
| And through my veils I shall not see | |
| That you are blind. | |
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VIII. Freedom
I would be free | 90 |
| From two superstitions, | |
| Thanks and Forgiveness. | |
| |
| So I would think of you | |
| As Flame, | |
| As Wind, | 95 |
| As Night, | |
| To whom I have been | |
| Wind, | |
| And Flame, | |
| And Night…. | 100 |
| |
| Together burned and swept, | |
| Now drowned | |
| In separate darkness. | |
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IX. Mud
I am dazed and weary | |
| From the shapelessness | 105 |
| Of what I am— | |
| |
| I am poured | |
| Among haphazard stones | |
| In meaningless patterns. | |
| |
| Yesterday’s sun dried me | 110 |
| Between rounded cobbles, | |
| Today’s deluge sweeps me | |
| Toward alien pavements, | |
| To-morrow’s sun shall dry me | |
| In a new design. | 115 |
| |
| Better the turbid gutter | |
| Toward the open sea! | |
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X. Fools Say—
November’s breath | |
| Is black in the branches of trees | |
| And under the bushes; | 120 |
| Harsh rain | |
| Whips down the rustling branch | |
| Of leaves. | |
| |
| There is smoke | |
| In the throat of the wind, | 125 |
| Its teeth | |
| Bite away beauty. | |
| |
| Let fools say: | |
| “Spring | |
| Will come again!” | 130 |
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