A Furious Devil
And carelessness rolls across hills, it does not see. Forgiving, and forgiving what,
that name, that doesn’t know it’s sadness! Like a myriad of pictograms, its sly,
shadowless verse is that of a nuptial grace, wise as it is fool, and captures devils in its praise. It will seize its own heart, as if a crime had been its own, and stupefy the mind of even chaos, that would have its reign. And it produces poetry, pure and simple, Alas! – to which it could never lay its claim.
4/4 '11
