In fact a small rain storm . . .
as it were a mouse, out of cloud’s mountain
no cloud, but the crystal body
the tangent formed in the hand’s cup
as live wind in the beech grove
as strong air amid cypress
nothing matters but the quality
of the affection —
Lay in soft grass by the cliff’s edge
with the sea 30 metres below this
and at hand’s span, at cubit’s reach moving,
the crystalline, as inverse of water,
clear over rock-bed
Her bed-posts are of sapphire
for this stone giveth sleep.
|Ezra Pound, 1971 [Franz Larese]|