Yet coiledroundabout Night with elastic galactic body

The dark duration
Now evening spreads; light still falls
full on the Thousand Things - a seraph soars
with faun and mandrake - here light thrones on ore, porphyry,
basalt. There stood brocade, solid gold, with a few trinkets.
O how much sand for uncial and lens, passion, metaphysics
with peace of wrinkles, when drop by drop blood spills down from chalice of flesh.
Violins, horns, that is his fruit, Noon, a sacrament with stiff ceremonial.
They bake loam for stone for the oven for the pot for the corn for the loaf for the child.
Karpov & Kasparov sit, hear the trumpet for tournament and flea circus,
while people are talking of stamps and drink tea.
It sparkles from airship and snow, veils in fans of water
Worm, ant, rat, ferret, badger, lynx, mink.
On each leaf sinks the dew of Con-
stable. All birds of the earth rush upwards together toward the light of Turner and the Sun.

Translation: Erven Christine D'haen