How beautiful and unexpected it was To wake and see the snow Butterflying in through the open window, Sand-dune drifting towards his feet, Blanketing his room Covering his heirlooms And scattened things, all smashed up and sad He felt so glad that they were gone But still there beneath the snow.
With Macbeth's clay-red arm around his neck, He said- ' remember...don't forget where you are... you're with me-' His clay-red arm like the muddy river That rambles through the reeking town Reaching for the sea.
Macbeth's head Full of clover and the town below Unaware of the time and the silent snow. Macbeth's head Full of barking dogs The churis in rags, their cloaks The heads of stags clashing antlers... Their cloaks billowing down The silvery hills of sleep.
Macbeth's head Blows a silver horn of dented stars Across the misty heath But, 'come back' he couldn't say. Macbeth's head In the emerald eyes of dark women Barefoot on the wharf, The north winds sing-song singing Through the gorse. Macbeth's head Down in the streets below Blissfully unaware of the virgin snow His purple tongue locked inside his mouth Shouting drunken at the cloads And a voice echoes through the landslide town Beneath the bracelet bridge... Macbeth's arm tenses round his neck- Don't forget, don't forget. Macbeth's head Full of the smell of stone. Falls from the satin sky His closed eyes His eyelids open... Macbeth's arm tenses round his neck- ...Don't forget., Don't forget.
And how beautiful and unexpected it was To wake and see the snow.