Читать книгу The Glass Constellation - Arthur Sze - Страница 80

Caw Caw, Caw Caw Caw.

To comprehend a crow

you must have a crow’s mind.

To be the night rain,

silver, on black leaves,

you must live in the

shine and wet. Some people

drift in their lives:

green-gold plankton,

phosphorescent, in the sea.

Others slash: a knife

at a yellow window shade

tears open the light.

But to live digging deep

is to feel the blood

in you rage as rivers,

is to feel love and hatred

as fibers of a rope,

is to catch the scent

of a wolf, and turn wild.