As a seed in the bright-colored street I am saying so long
To the I know of nothing, the nothing that knows not of me.
On a high cushioned wingtip my bondage was loosed with a song
Of seduction to come, a provoking, profane melody;
The lean languid lusting of aimlessness, sloth, and despair,
The wandering torment of roads I have too often trod—
Surrender, surrender to city, to crisp, crowded air,
Pave me a new path, clothe me as I have never been shod.
O city of walls! Of markets and marked cobblestones!
Shall I feel my whole destiny thrust upon me where I stand?
Shall I enter your palaces, prostrate myself at your thrones?
Shall I not be delivered from out of my enemy’s hand?
My descent I passed singing, as whispering leaves to the ground;
I must blossom anew in your soil, in the home I have found.
19 August 2019