VIZIER

When to escape the men I climbed the heights
And stayed with stars and wolves for seven nights
I had the silk-swathed softness of a boy
Who now come as the sword sent to destroy.
Retribution is the wheel of things.
Mahmet has made himself the king of kings.
The castle of my house's murderers falls
And the wild tulips hide the ruined walls.

Mahmet I carved to move across my board.
When will he send them with my strangling cord?

WATER

Pale-hued the heron in the high reaches
Of the Conway at flood flashing silver:
A lonely image of empty earth.

The sheep in the shadows of the slate fence,
...