In the East
Dark is the wrath of the people,
Like the wild organs of winter storm,
The crimson wave of battle,
Stripped leaf stars.
With shattered brows and silver arms
The night beckons dying soldiers.
In the shade of the autumn ash
The spirits of the slain are sighing.
Thorny wilderness girdles the city.
From blood-drenched steps the moon
Chases the terrified women.
Wild wolves have broken through the gate.
Translated by Will Stone
Page(s) 56
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