A Song of the Degrees
I
Rest with me Chinese colours,
For I think the glass is evil.
II
The wind moves above the wheat-
With a silver crashing,
A thin war of metal.
I have known the golden disc,
I have seen it melting above me.
I have known the stone-bright place,
The hall of clear colours.
From: Selected Poems and Translations of Ezra Pound 1908-1969
Published by Faber and Faber
Published by Faber and Faber
