1.
Not with silver I came,
Not with amber I came,
Not as a king I came,
As a shepherd I came.
Here’s air of hills of mine,
Here’s of two eyes of mine
Sharp gaze—and of fires
Red glare and of dawns of mine.
Where’s wax—that is the fur?
Through hole I won’t turn!
Poorer than all—
But ahead of all!
Behind a camel a camel
See: on that round hill,
See: walking are the kings,
See: they are bearing bins.
O—after—far!
2.
Three kings,
Three bins
With precious gifts.
The first bin—
All the earth
With indigo seas.
Second bin:
Noah within
With an ark with beasts.
And within?
That third bin?
What is there, my king?
Gives the king,
“Holy’s my light”
Don’t know what it means
Ahead—king,
Mom—behind,
And the infant weeps.