etrangeres

There are battle-shouts
And death-cries everywhere hereabouts
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But inaudible, so the eyes praise
To see the colours of these flies
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Rainbow their arcs, spark, or settle
Cooling like beads of molten metal
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Through the spectrum. Think what worse
Is the pond-bed’s matter of course;
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Prehistoric bedragoned times
Crawl that darkness with Latin names,
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Have evolved no improvements there,
Jaws for heads, the set stare
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Ignorant of age as of hour-
Now paint the long-necked lily-flower
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Which, deep in both worlds, can be still
As a painting, trembling hardly at all
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Though the dragonfly alight,
Whatever horror nudge her root.
—  from “To Paint a Water Lily” by Ted Hughes, full poem here: https://www.lettres-et-arts.net/litteratures-francophones-etrangeres/ted-hughes-paint-water-lily+63