Wheresoever on his journey
Bat-like wings, the monster lowered,
Groves were stilled, the waters vanished,
Orchards wasted, grasses withered.
And much worse, the people dying
Suddenly and naught availing,
Like the playful moths that flutter
To a tempting light attracted.
All grew bare, the glaring sunshine
Bleached the yellow bones, unburied,
Perished all but cloud-dark vultures
And hyennas in the forests.
And this bird—a plague they called him,
Or a punishment of God—now
Lightly flew o'er every ocean,
Soared above each mountain apex.
In a veil of poisoned vapor
He would fly by night and daylight,
Where he flew, the sun grew crimson,
Howled the dogs where'er he landed.
Fears, lamenting, sighs and curses
Spread he 'fore him in confusion
As he flew from Ural mountains
To Byzantium with tempests.
34
