(Where Are the Snows?)
François Villon
I awoke
As from a dream--––
The aspen commanded
That I share myself
Among my living kind.
I arose
A yearling buck
Proud upon the heath
My quest and the sun
Before me.
I followed the rivers
To their tireless beginnings,
And found the path
Of every darkness
To morning.
I came to know the maudlin roses
And their thorns,
And the returning habits
Of the geese
In Autumn.
Perhaps I tarried too long
Conversing among the knee-high
Golden grasses
Observing the topplings
Of the changeling moon.
I returned
Too late
A sodden stag
To the crying mountains.
The aspen knelt
To soothe my agony.