trampe videre inn i neste morgen

This pallid comet announces more than kings' deaths.
To tail it with purer color I add
That the mountains are alive. They crouch like great cats
watching
Our comic and mouse-hole tragedies, or lift high over
them
Peaks like sacred torches, pale-flaming rock.
The old blue dragon breathes at their feet, the eternal
flames
Burn in the sky. The spirit that flickers and hurts in
humanity
Shines brighter from better lamps; but from all shines.
Look to it: prepare for the long winter: spring is fare off.

Fra diktet Mara i boka Be angry at the sun av Robinson Jeffers.