The Heart of Time

Shall I sleep at the head-waters that
                   water all worlds
My face bathed in the morning-fragrance
My eyes the sun’s ray’d disc
                   that beam-brights the way
                   streaming fromward?

Or, shall I plunge
                   into those waters
                   which make pregnant
                   with a strange purple
the shores of tomorrow
                   dazzled of a glory streaming toward
from the world-brim?

Deep within me
                   floods high a tide of gold
from the fount of blood
                   where the living waters are welling
                   without end.

Translation published with the permission of the Jones Estate.