Butterfly over the Colossus (1960)

IV
I am Paul Celans fugue, I am the ague of Agamemnon

Then from this, the fly swans over pillows of flowers

Where nestles the agrarian, milking the romantics

Without a by or leave, without a ghosts chance

The Egyptian is allegorized into a battlefield

Of nursery rhymes and alphabets, runed into private

Jokes between ted and sylvia, in sylvan dell of plentitude

The next leaf, 41, for some editions, timbers into tropes

But by now, you know, or damn should, the old ropes