I drown in the drumming ploughland, I drag up
Heel after heel from the swallowing of the earth’s mouth
From clay that clutches my each step to the ankle
With the habit of the dogged grave, but the hawk

Effortlessly at height hangs his still eye
His wings hold all creation in a weightless quiet
Steady as a hallucination in the streaming air
While banging wind kills these stubborn hedges

Thumbs my eyes, throws my breath, tackles my heart
And rain hacks my head to the bone, the hawk hangs
The diamond point of will that polestars
Thе sea drowner’s endurancе: and I

Bloodily grabbed dazed last-moment-counting
Morsel in the earth’s mouth, strain towards the master-
Fulcrum of violence where the hawk hangs still
That maybe in his own time meets the weather

Coming from the wrong way, suffers the air, hurled upside down
Fall from his eye, the ponderous shires crash on him
The horizon traps him; the round angelic eye
Smashed, mix his heart’s blood with the mire of the land

I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat
The convenience of the high trees!
The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth's face upward for my inspection

My feet are locked upon the rough bark
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot

Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I kill where I please because it is all mine
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads -

The allotment of death
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living
No arguments assert my right:

The sun is behind me
Nothing has changed since I began
My eye has permitted no change
I am going to keep things like this