Larch Tree

Thwart branch not crushed of larch tree and plead;
waned ash from walls, ax in hand to war!
bright eyes, as clouds pass dry like dunes love leads,
camps blaze, quenched my tongue of wine cups poured.

By chance that flame that swells in a chest,
blind thirst, or of sweet hive shall I kiss?
May I find the stay be cloud's high crest,
plots of ground as streams that sole pour bliss?

If your mind dim of light a root calls,
find me close, once more to help you grow,
when to bare rock your sea by faults fall,
the stars that still your mind, and brave glow.

March trunk of old, twist and turn,
the leaf in gales, shy I churn.