Part 13 (1/2)

PRAYERS FOR WIND

Let the winds come, And bury our feet in the sands of seven deserts; Let strong breezes rise, Was.h.i.+ng our ears with the far-off sounds of the foam.

Let there be between our faces Green turf and a branch or two of back-tossed trees; Set firmly over questioning hearts The deep unquenchable answer of the wind.

IMPROMPTU

My mind is a puddle in the street reflecting green Sirius; In thick dark groves trees huddle lifting their branches like beckoning hands.

We eat the grain, the grain is death, all goes back to the earth's dark ma.s.s, All but a song which moves across the plain like the wind's deep-muttering breath.

Bowed down upon the earth, man sets his plants and watches for the seed, Though he be part of the tragic pageant of the sky, no heaven will aid his mortal need.

I find flame in the dust, a word once uttered that will stir again, And a wine-cup reflecting Sirius in the water held in my hands.

CHINESE POET AMONG BARBARIANS

The rain drives, drives endlessly, Heavy threads of rain; The wind beats at the shutters, The surf drums on the sh.o.r.e; Drunken telegraph poles lean sideways; Dank summer cottages gloom hopelessly; Bleak factory-chimneys are etched on the filmy distance, Tepid with rain.

It seems I have lived for a hundred years Among these things; And it is useless for me now to make complaint against them.

For I know I shall never escape from this dull barbarian country, Where there is none now left to lift a cool jade winecup, Or share with me a single human thought.

SNOWY MOUNTAINS

Higher and still more high, Palaces made for cloud, Above the dingy city-roofs Blue-white like angels with broad wings, Pillars of the sky at rest The mountains from the great plateau Uprise.

But the world heeds them not; They have been here now for too long a time.

The world makes war on them, Tunnels their granite cliffs, Splits down their s.h.i.+ning sides, Plasters their cliffs with soap-advertis.e.m.e.nts, Destroys the lonely fragments of their peace.

Vaster and still more vast, Peak after peak, pile after pile, Wilderness still untamed, To which the future is as was the past, Barrier spread by G.o.ds, Sunning their s.h.i.+ning foreheads, Barrier broken down by those who do not need The joy of time-resisting storm-worn stone, The mountains swing along The south horizon of the sky; Welcoming with wide floors of blue-green ice The mists that dance and drive before the sun.

THE FUTURE

After ten thousand centuries have gone, Man will ascend the last long pa.s.s to know That all the summits which he saw at dawn Are buried deep in everlasting snow.