The Black Winds

Black winds from the north

enter black hearts. Barred from

seclusion in lilies they strike

to destroy --

Beastly humanity

where the wind breaks it --

strident voices, heat

quickened, built of waves

Drunk with goats or pavements

Hate is of the night and the day

of flowers and rocks. Nothing

is gained by saying the night breeds

murder -- It is the classical mistake

The day

All that enters in another person

all grass, all blackbirds flying

all azalea trees in flower

salt winds --

Sold to them men knock blindly together

splitting their heads open

That is why boxing matches and

Chinese poems are the same -- That is why

Hartley praises Miss Wirt

There is nothing in the twist

of the wind but -- dashes of cold rain

It is one with submarine vistas

purple and black fish turning

among undulant seaweed --

Black wind, I have poured my heart out

to you until I am sick of it --

Now I run my hand over you feeling

the play of your body -- the quiver

of its strength --

The grief of the bowmen of Shu

moves nearer -- There is

an approach with difficulty from

the dead -- the winter casing of grief

How easy to slip

into the old mode, how hard to

cling firmly to the advance --

---William Carlos Williams

Pound found a way to order


It's not the only one.