Between a screaming sky and the pungent earth
A quite grey twilight rises over the land of
Passionate men and their too fertile women,
Who hide violent souls in self-fearing bodies.
Binding their nature to a petty God’s censure
Giving home to the snakes that were forced from the land.
From the restless hills beats a savage rhythm.
Through the green black copse cross the velvet fields
A steaming horse beats a darkening pasture.
Unwelcome intruder, I must cross it alone
He taunts me in darkness but from behind
Weak from confinement he will not confront.
Through damp mist and peat smoke
Winds the road down the valley;
Past malt fragrant farmyards reeking with living
From the base busy ferment under piles of straw.
Past farm house and cottage to the bank of the river,
The vein of the hills gushing into the sea.
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