To sleep in the shadows of monoliths.
Selfish thunders crack a torrid sky,
split with silver, then a dull flash,
softening horrid structures bent, tall,
decrepit, gentle, towering over wilderness.
Silent are cattle, lambs and men,
rivers full, like fervent veins, amorous;
as small as an ant, a grain or lonely babe—
rolls on, the night, murmuring dark to
stone.