Greyhair fool / Shoes undone / The fields ahead / Leaves black as coal

Landmark-free / No walls, No trees

to greet him on this night of his return



C--So who will love this lie on legs

who can't change skin and is not yet dead?

The universal foreigner

The homeless, greyhair son



Scrambles blind up muddy slope

then silent shakes before rusty gates--C



There's a house, its roof caved in

A rusty wreck of car / A lightning-blasted tree

and a man who says, "So here you are--the boy who broke the plough,

who struck his father down, who told us to be damned

and betrayed us to the Englishman!"



"Who will love this lie on legs? On paving-stones I've made my bed

Not a living soul now speaks my name but here at least I have my shame

I thought to come and taste once more what the priestly fables all ignore:

the un-eternal consequence," says the greyhair son



Greyhair fool / Shoes undone / He'll top at dawn / Now hews his plough

Wind blows on / The soil is poison / He sets to work / He and his plough

Final union / He and his plough / Plough