I see him tread a craggy path
Over dark hills, outlined against the sky,
In a flapping cloak, and his sardonic eye
Gleams with a joyous wrath

And he lifts his arms and behold
A flight of birds all gold
In the sunset carrying dreams,
Strange dreams from out of Africa and Spain,

Then in a harsh voice he spells the sun
And leaps and dances on its crimson touch
Casting distorted shadows on the moon
New risen.

I see him flinging out his cloak,
That swells and swirls like thick smoke,
That rushes outwards and expands
To engulf the houses in all lands.

Now, naked on the highest peak,
He pauses with both hands above his head,
He laughs and flings them outward with all his might
And above a million stars upon the night.