by Alfon Sina Storn
Yes, I move, I live, I wander astray
water running, intermingle, over the sands.
I know the passionate pleasure of motion;
I taste the forests; I touch strange land.
Yes, I move–perhaps I’m seeking
storms, suns, dawns, a place to hide.
What are you doing here, pale and polished–
you, the stone in the path of the tide?
This poem appeared June 1925 issue of Poetry. Ms. Storn was an
Argentina poet and teacher. She authors many collections of verse,
including Mundo de siete Pozos (Editorial Tor, 1926).
She died on 10-25-1938.