Page:Modern Russian Poetry.djvu/201

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Through closed lids I see Between my legs new rivers Heave New ground Upon golden Crests. Listening to the earth, I spit With out-thrust, lower lip, And lo! Rains Pour with the sound of spears And, clinking, Pierce the earth. Eternal, Not by hands created, With the spirit of Life-giving Spring I sweep The tilled field, And On the naked knees of the universe I pour The blue waters Of My Eternal Triumph. Hosannah in the highest!