The swifts have no strength any more to retain,
To check the light-blue evening coolness.
It burst from their breasts, from their throats, under strain And flows out of hand in its fullness.
There is not a thing that could stop them, up there,
From shrilly, exultedly crying,
Exclaiming:
The earth has made off to nowhere,
O look!
It has vanished - O triumph!
As cauldrons of water are ended in steam When quarrelsome bubbles are rising - Look - there is no room for the earth - from the seam Of the gorge to the drawn-out horizon!
