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All calculations set to one side |
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The inevitable descent from heaven |
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A visitation of memories and a seance of rhythms |
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Invades the house, my head |
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And the world of the mind |
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A horse leaps forward on suburban turf |
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Past planted fields and streches of woods |
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Misty with carbonic plague |
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A wretched theatrical woman, somewhere in the world |
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Sighs after an improbable indulgence |
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Desperadoes lie dreaming of storm, and of wounds and debauch |
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Along small streams the little children sit |
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Stifling their curses |
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Let us turn once more to our studies |
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To the noise of insatiable movement |
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That forms and ferments in the masses |
