Childhood's Inheritance

The light beats upon me.
I am startled —
a split leaf crackles on the paved floor —
I am anguished — defeated

A slight wind shakes the seed-pods —
my thoughts are spent
as the black seeds
My thoughts tear me,
I dread their fever
I am scattered in its whirl
I am scattered like
the hot shrivelled seeds.

The shrivelled seeds
are split on the path —
the grass bends with dust,
the grape slips
under its crackled leaf:
yet far beyond the spent seed-pods,
and the blackened stalks of mint,
the poplar is bright on the hill,
the poplar spreads out,
deep-rooted among trees

O poplar, you are great
among the hill-stones,
while I perish on the path
among the crevices of the rocks.
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