Look, do you see that mountain?
The grass covering its feet and the long angular lines
racing to an untouched sky.
How can something so massive be still,
with rivers flowing from its crown
and all the life of heaven rushing down?
Should we all be still, with grass covering our feet
and our long lines racing to an untouched sky?
When my words fail, when poetry and all my members of elocution cease,
then I will stand still and point at this mountain.
I will say with my fixed position, come my brothers and sisters,
the distance is not so great.
We can run up the long lines. We can touch the untouched sky. We can shout,
“Look!” as we rush through the door to another world that all this glory
is pointing towards.