The Ascent Of Scorpions Poem by Abraham Sutzkever

Here you are at the workshop of all creation.
Hire yourself out, an apprentice —
Eternity will pay you
With its currency, if your work is good.

To the Ascent of Scorpions, you didn't come late —
Here, Genesis exhibits its art:
The Pillar of Smoke kisses his love —
The Pillar of Fire.

How simple. Not a shred of miracle.
You see the Creator through glass of sand.
Cities in the air: here dwells prophecy,
Not older, not younger — just as you left it.