STORM IN THE BLACK FOREST - POEM

Jugfull after jugfull of pure white liquid fire, bright white

tipples over and spills down,

and is gone

and gold-bronze flutters beat through the thick upper air.


And as the electric liquid pours out, sometimes

a still brighter white snake wriggles among it, spilled

and tumbling wriggling down the sk


and then the heavens cackle with uncouth sounds.

And the rain won’t come, the rain refuses to come!





This is the electricity that man is supposed to have mastered

chained, subjugated to his own use!



-David Herbert Lawrence (1885-1930)-