6. Letter.

You can picture it from here. — Ochres and chalks,
Furrows crisscrossing plains in a thousand streaks,
Stubble close on the earth, half-hidden by brush,
A few haystacks standing up on the grass,
Old rooftops trailing smoke across dark land’s ease,
A river—neither the Caystrus, nor the Ganges
But a humble Norman stream, stirred by brine of sea;
To the right, northward, lies strange territory,
Full of sharp angles, as if shaped by a spade—
Such is the foreground. An ancient chapel in a glade
Lifts its spire there, amongst a knot of gnarled elm
With jagged, agitated silhouettes; they seem
Weary of the playful zephyrs, they take them
To task, the very wind that shakes them.
A heavy cart—from my house I have eyes on
Its gathering rust. Before me: a vast horizon,
Where sea fills every inlet with azure folds.
Hens and roosters, displaying plumage of gold,
Chatter under my window, from the attic comes
Various snatches of local dialect songs.
In my lane dwells a ropemaker—a patriarch—he’s
An old man who spins his wheel loudly, marches
Backward, his hemp coiled around his waist.
I love this wild and frantic windswept space;
The fields invite me to wander all day long;
The village children, books in hand, enviously look on—
For I am lodging with the schoolmaster,
Like a grown-up pupil holidays long over.
The sky is laughing, air pure; All day, at my host’s,
The sound of children spelling words aloud floats;
Water flows, a greenfinch flits by; I say: Thank you!
Thank you, O God Almighty! — Thus I live; so
Peacefully, hour by hour, in quiet fashion, through me
The days unfold, dreaming of you, my fair, pale beauty!
I listen to the children chattering, and, at times,
I see, out on the open sea, a sight sublime—
Passing high above the pigeons of the tranquil village—
Some winged ship, embarked on a lengthy voyage,
Chased by every wind across the ocean, she
Is a ship that, not long since, slept by the quay,
But which is dissuaded, on the jealous waves’ flurries:
Neither by the tears of kin, nor by wives’ worries,
Nor the dark reflection of undersea reefs,
Nor the persistent cries of ominous birds’ shrieks.