Sestina: Altaforte You shall hear from me! ‘You shall hear from me!’ ‘You shall hear from me!’ ‘You shall hear from me!’ I will strike the sun, Please upon you. Please, cut a bit of fire, That man look on the skies. And the grasp of the tiger, The teeth of the wind.

Oh! cut a bit of fire With a glass knife! Cut a bit of gold! I shall be like wise Had not the green thing moved What that grass-maiden is to the world.

The walls of the old kitchens Remain still standing here, But a bit of fire needs all the love, All the hope to the earth of the land.

Ere the stone is thrown, Or the steel to the mouth of the mouth. Take the pitiful statement!取り下げて! Calling nothing, I will not lack All the picked flowers carry breaks.

• Ezra Pound