Latent History

Take the last train out to the highest mount

Remain three days

Eat lichen and shrike eggs

Follow the flocks through the gorge of grey rocks

Trace to the source; melodize with the spring

Then you will receive word -

Latent history foretold

Abide ten thousand years til next Spring

Larksong -- too high, almost, to be heard;

Swallows swinging low over dolomite lake

And diving into cathedraline crevices

Hear the frozen mountains' tongues proclaim 

your name in the chatter of new-thawn streams 

Moraine-enciphered rumors dispelled

शृणु - Attend! La baguette du dôme céleste 

touche le bol doré terrestre!