A whip cracks in the wood, and cattle low
And through the underbrush are heard to
Crash heavily. Leaves rustle. Snowdrops show
Their blue heads here and there. A sudden, furtive

Wind starts to blow, and ashen clouds are swept
Across the skies, a cool, fresh rain presaging…
The heart grieves and is glad that life is, strangely,
Vast like the steppe and empty like the steppe.