|
| | Have you ever seen |
| anything |
| in your life |
| more wonderful |
| |
| than the way the sun, |
| every evening, |
| relaxed and easy, |
| floats toward the horizon |
| |
| and into the clouds or the hills, |
| or the rumpled sea, |
| and is gone-- |
| and how it slides again |
| |
| out of the blackness, |
| every morning, |
| on the other side of the world, |
| like a red flower |
| |
| streaming upward on its heavenly oils, |
| say, on a morning in early summer, |
| at its perfect imperial distance-- |
| and have you ever felt for anything |
| such wild love-- |
| do you think there is anywhere, in any language, |
| a word billowing enough |
| for the pleasure |
| |
| that fills you, |
| as the sun |
| reaches out, |
| as it warms you |
| |
| as you stand there, |
| empty-handed-- |
| or have you too |
| turned from this world-- |
| |
| or have you too |
| gone crazy |
| for power, |
| for things? |
|
|
