What a marvelous picture
Yours, about, my north, yours!
Always a barren plain,
Empty, like my dream!
Here my spirit, spiteful and hard,
Disturbing the silence with laughter;
AND, responding, raven black
He shakes a dead pine tree;
At the bottom of the waterfalls Bubble,
Hail granite and roots drev;
And on the stones sing mollusk
Sexless anthem bezmuzhnih virgins;
And in this din of cold water,
The hateful cry of crows,
Under the eye of a fish barren virgins
Quietly smoldering my life!
March 1909
