Over the fields, over the knolls,
Over the hills that cradle the morning,
I scatter my glowing pagan dreams
While birds alight on my shoulders…
In vain they buried me amid the rubble
Of vainly carved cathedrals! Dizzy
With wonder, the golden sun beholds me,
And the weeping clouds call me sister
Far echoes of waves… of universes…
Echoes of a World… of a distant Beyond,
From where I brought my verses’ magic!
It’s me! It’s me! The one who, like no one,
Plucked from life with anxious hands
The hurtful thorns and none of the roses!
Her poetry was once deemed too emotive with too
many exclamation marks!!!
From A Poem A Day: All Continental Europe
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