I.

The parks, which cannot be resisted, raise

themselves from softly moldering decay:

oppressed by sky, transmitted down the days

with firmness, these are heirlooms meant to stay,

so they can both extend themselves across

the clear, prepared grass plots and then retreat,

always kept safe from any threat of loss

by royal funds they can't deplete;

augmenting always, making more capacious,

that treasury that helps the king grow great;

raising themselves, then circling back to wait —

purple with pomp, and strutting, grandly gracious.

II.

The pathways, left and right,

are gently holding you.

You walk them for a sight

of any sign or clue,

till suddenly you stroll

into a gathering:

banking a shaded fountain bowl,

four stone stopes form a ring.

In time cut off from time,

the hours pass, alone.

No statues stand in mime

on dank and empty stone,

on which you raise a deep,

expectant-apprehensive sigh,

while from the dark bowl weep

the silver drops that by

this time, count you as theirs,

their speech trickling each word.

You feel you're under stone that hears

you, yet you feel you are not stirred.

III

Den Teichen und den eingerahmten Weihern

verheimlicht man noch immer das Verhör

der Könige. Sie warten unter Schleiern,

und jeden Augenblick kann Monseigneur

vorüberkommen; und dann wollen sie

des Königs Laune oder Trauer mildern

und von den Marmorrändern wieder die

Teppiche mit alten Spiegelbildern

hinunterhängen, wie um einen Platz:

auf grünem Grund, mit Silber, Rosa, Grau,

gewährtem Weiß und leicht gerührtem Blau

und einem Könige und einer Frau

und Blumen in dem wellenden Besatz.