Ash is a quiet tree, light and leafy br It soothes and mildly shades, easing br With a grace, with a favour quickly won, br Tasting of clouds and a milky sun. br The day is blond with its cheer br All that is tranquil and fun gathers near br Under its ringlets, free-flowing, fair. br br Under its scattered coins br Without fuss, without noise br Tight knots and screws may be undone br Racks loosened, heat plunged in br Wetness. Time sweetly, gently runs. br br But there are darker woods, with foliage br That surges sable like night over day br And stirs with its eloquence, with a br Mane of menace and fluency br All that is deep at the core br Of things, all that is beyond. br All that is not rest, all that reaches for more. br Those shadowy tresses catch and curl in their waves, br A riot of tenderness, rapt in a phrase br That has nothing to do with desire- br A thousand tales, a world where everything br And nothing is sure.