The sand cast down and we its cover,
Red runs away in crimson bleeding flow
Loudly the hyena cries to celebrate death
Kill as the one licks wounds of another.
A different dusk the sand lies under cloud brothers
Bathing in white hues and night crawls forth
Beneath bright moon hidden in shroud, its silver
Skirt blazing upon the black sea like a torch.
The last view is blue [lone Whippoorwill
Call deep in the willowed swamp] and waves,
Tipped in faint crystal, shimmer bluer still
With futility and even wind is depraved.