FABRIC Comments

If I had your eyes, spinner,
I could see what I have never seen:
Silver threads, golden threads, silken threads
Moving in my hands
To weave the four seasons,
Especially the spring
Or the autumn that ends all;
I would see the water coursing through the skein
And towers on the bottom of the boats.
Or on the distaff would observe
The lovely forms which are now the thread
Wherein death always awaits us,
Silver thread, golden thread, silken thread.
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