I tried to get away from the twilight hills
But the sun in the West kept dragging me down
Over the rim of the altar’s sill,
Along to the web of the silent town.
Running through streets where the roofs are heads,
Leering mouths and glass filled eyes;
Fountains of truth, your speeches are dead
And the wolves grow hungry as the sad day dies.
Up through the mud of the sky they go.
Stained with the blood in the leper’s bell,
Drinking the clapper in a shackling NO!
As the bubbles of love rise up to hell . .
‘Restless City’, you can hear them say
And even the mountain bows its head;
Black in the East where the golden rays
Never clasp, never even dare to shed
Lifelong colours on the darkness town
As the other half joyfully sacrifice;
The mountain waits. And the babble of sound
Makes a river of tears that are turned to ice.
Away in the grove in the valley’s crook
An altar tilts its shadow away;
A small snail crawls to a stony nook
And the deathless wait for another day.
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