On The Season of StormsThe Season of Storms is a Dread Wolf*
That seizes the sick, the old, and the young creatures.The Season of Storms is a stone
Upon which we cannot live.The Season of Storms sharpens his hunting
With his beak and talon of a bird of prey.And yet the children play on the ground;
And we are put in mind, by that, of Spring,Of the time, that is, of dancing;
For the Sun encoppers** us, protects us,
And flowers cover--blossoming--our graves.