Clouds darken the plain.
From all sides, the mountains of the horizon move forward; the plain shrinks, crumpled into valleys that grow deeper. The three rivers become torrents that flow swiftly in their cavernous beds towards those dark spots where they meet: the cities.
Then the sun again.
The mountains move back to the distant circular horizon; the valleys disappear, and the three rivers flow placidly in their scarcely perceptible beds of luminous sands. The cities glisten with their crystal walls and the hard light is reflected from house to house along the glass streets. Men no longer drag their dark-blue shadows like long chains that rattled on the opaque cobble stones. Silence of light: frozen wines of sound. No wind stirs, sleepily coiled around the towers that are transparent stems bearing the white flowers of clouds which float, vehicles for our pure thoughts, like water-lilies on the surface of a stream until they fade into the blue depth of space.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Hand by Edouard Roditi )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(31 March 1934 – 31 May 2009)
(January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
Poem of the Day
- For Her, M.J. Lemon
- I Broke My Leg, M.J. Lemon
- Get Together in NCCF Benue, Dare Onadele
- A Man Dying, M.J. Lemon
- Force Of Nature, R B Seals
- People I See Sometimes, Casey Renee Kiser
- The Song of My Heart, Amber Carr
- Tales Of A Wife: My Devil, Onyekachukwu Vincent Onyeche
- ARRIVAL DAY, michael walkerjohn
- Yeh Meri Betian, Akhtar Jawad