There are the Alps. What is there to say about them? <br />They don't make sense. Fatal glaciers, crags cranks climb, <br />jumbled boulder and weed, pasture and boulder, scree, <br />et l'on entend, maybe, le refrain joyeux et leger. <br />Who knows what the ice will have scraped on the rock it is smoothing? <br /> <br />There they are, you will have to go a long way round <br />if you want to avoid them. <br />It takes some getting used to. There are the Alps, <br />fools! Sit down and wait for them to crumble!<br /><br />Basil Bunting<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-fly-leaf-of-pound-s-cantos/
