Oft against the shy rocks
The sleep god sounds his horn
To the frost-bitten day.

The birds leap into frenzied flight
Like flames stretching forward
To the cracked blue of the breaking sky.

A hammer in his minds repeats
The recitation of rhyming prayers
A flicker in his fingers fuels the spark to
play the notes that need no singing.

How long tormented
He will to the forest wind
And desert winding walls
The sobbing bells
The maddening world-
How long tormented will his eyes set like the sun
In the ancient hills
And the black angels cry out ceaselessly ?