In which land?
In which sea?
In which island,
I seek thee?
Under the rising sun of Japan,
or the moon-marked sky of Palestine?
In Afghanistan or Paraguay,
Italy or Guinea?
The Mississippi is the tear of the people of the sun, slips on the face of the Gulf of Mexico;
the Nile is the tear of thousands of Joseph, falling into the sea;
the Himalaya is the restless heart of the earth, jumped out of its chest;
Ceylon is a teardrop of the India, sitting in the corner of the ocean’s eyes.
Australia, faraway and distracted,
Europe, stupefied and drugged,
Africa, miserable and sad,
Asia, pale and bad,
America, red with anger and mad.
Chilean poesy springs are dry, and
Greece is at her wit’s end.
O magnificent dream,
O Imam of the time,
come with Christ!