Page:Modern Russian Poetry.djvu/201

11

Through closed lids

I see
Between my legs new rivers
Heave
New ground
Upon golden
Crests.
 

12

Listening to the earth,

I spit
With out-thrust, lower lip,
And lo!
Rains
Pour with the sound of spears
And, clinking,
Pierce the earth.
 

13

Eternal,

Not by hands created,
With the spirit of Life-giving Spring
I sweep
The tilled field,
And
On the naked knees of the universe
I pour
The blue waters
Of My Eternal Triumph.
Hosannah in the highest!