ἀμὴν, ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν…FROM heavy-hanging heavens still and wide at once, wells forth a tide they can’t contain in cataracts of sadness: swells of rain whence all the creatures scurry, seek to hide, whence flowers droop their heads and scarce abide withdraw their comely petals, fleeing pain, the sovereign Sun, compelled, forsakes his reign his garments parted, sunspots pierce his side streams of golden light are drowned upon the sea where they, fast-forgotten, fade into the storm and all his syllables of greenery are washed away in painted floral forms which, flowing past, speak thus to me, “birth comes to death, death quick to birth transforms: fail we to die, we fail to be reborn...”
Beautiful! Thank you!
And true!