summer rains' quiet incantation, the animals come and go,

                    in the far-distant hills, the snow melts as the river flows;

 

                    time is a demon

                    the animals know,

 

                  ...in the abdomen – demon go

                  ...in the albumin – demon go

                  ... in the acumen – demon go

 

                  yea, in and around all things, all the time, ye know,

                  the serpent-slick, sick soothsayer sayeth so:

                          O! why do the wicked prosper?

                          O! why do the innocent die?

                          Gold, frankincense, myrrh,

                          Yea! the bigger the lie.

                          

 

                           Ye know the many works of the demon:

                           fear, disaster, pillage, rape,

                           greed, complacency, self-serving 'fate.'

 

                        Yea, even in the comfort of this April-blossomed morn,

                           with this dew-bejewelled early green like Eve's’s dawn,

                           even here the viper weeps her song.

 

                       So sing ye the songs of stormy autumn,

                       Weary riverman, floating down the sleepy old Lethe,

                       Go sing ye the passing strangeness of the night,

                       Weary riverman, whisper in the failing autumn light.