Kitap 6
The wind with gentle touch unravels them
And breaketh asunder as they move, those seeds
Which make the lightnings must by nature fall;
At such an hour the horizon lightens round
20
Without the hideous terror of dread noise
What sort of nature thunderbolts possess
Is by their strokes made manifest and by
The brand-marks of their searing heat on things,
And by the scorched scars exhaling round
5
The heavy fumes of sulphur. For all these
Are marks, O not of wind or rain, but fire.
Again, they often enkindle even the roofs
Of houses and inside the very rooms
With swift flame hold a fierce dominion.
10
Know thou that nature fashioned this fire
Subtler than fires all other, with minute
And dartling bodies,- a fire 'gainst which there's naught
Can in the least hold out: the thunderbolt,
