How few are we. Probably three <br />In all-coallike, burning, infernal <br />Beneath the grey bark of the tree <br />Of wisdom, and clouds, and eternal <br />Debate on verse, transport, the part <br />The army will play-and on art. <br /> <br />We used to be human. We're eras, <br />We're trains, in a caravan ripping <br />Through woods, to the sighing and fears <br />Of engines, and groans of the sleepers. <br />We'll rush in, and circle in the throes <br />Of being, like a whirlwind of crows. <br /> <br />A miss! Much too late you will see it. <br />Thus galloping wind in the morning <br />In passing a straw pile will buffet- <br />The blow will live on as a warning <br />To riotous tree-tops, and mingle <br />With their wrangles over the shingles.<br /><br />Boris Pasternak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/how-few-are-we-probably-three/
