Читать книгу The Uncertain Land and Other Poems - Patrick O’Brian - Страница 13

The winter hillside

brown

sharp, clear, distinct

and figures running

tiny, shortened, struggling with space.

A plouff of smoke

is drifting on the field

larger: larger, vague: and now the bang

the echoes clapping in the hills, hard hills,

and now the rain

reversed: the rattle

cruel ripping tearing hail

of stones that fell

in time disturbed, before.