I bear no grudge
against the grass,

the wily snake
or hapless horse.

No need have I
for furious sun.

Observe my cliffs.
Imperial ice.

My trillion bright
relentless teeth—

You feel them
inching forward?

That wind that chills
your heedless neck—

No fool should doubt
my granite will.

Proud duty, mine,

to bring to earth
a little death.

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