Respite
melancholy days approach;
escape where? In naked woods?
where do winds wail around
the hilly slopes?
where ash, maple, and oak abound?
I see a dazzling blaze,
a kindling world,
as fires leap everywhere
all over the hemispheres,
where fatal booby traps are sprung,
where bombs fall without respite.
now, where can I escape?
Suddenly, night fell, and everything was quiet;
from somewhere, a bird sang.
I remembered Robert Browning’s words.
“God is in Heaven, all’s right with the world.”*
(from Pippa passes by Robert Browning)
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