Poems By Arjava

SPHERED immensity of red

That holds emblazoned in its heart of peace

The black upjutting line of western hill.

Hills of tranquillity steeped in the setting sun ;

Ground transmuted in that drench of gold :

A hallowed air whose substance is of light

And calm and wideness and release of soul.

For now the blossom opens from the bud :

Surely the seed of the sun has sprouted from the tomb,

That all traditionary clods are lit with knowing ?