They rise and fall
With the madness of seasons
They harden and decay
According to the wretchedness of harvests
Wars and stumbling markets harm them
They are like waking and slumbering
Sunrise and sunset
The palpitation of the heart
Rise . . .
Fall . . .
Up . . . down
Today . . .
Tomorrow . . .
The rise and fall of potentates
When thrones are shattered and rebuilt
The winds and the thresher of desecrated soils . . .
Like the rise of the year in January
And the fall of the year in December . . .
Skimming terns, high up, descend on invaded boughs
When evening lies waste to sea pollution
These items swallow their pride in summer
When they crash relentlessly,
Re-greening mildewed stems tarnished by winter’s gale.
I fear the rage of pullulation,
When, with hysterical tempo,
In the sense of an aggravated, wild dance,
The globe continues to shrink and combust.