Like when the rainy fog

Brave Hypsenor the stump of whose hand

Lies somewhere on the battlefield

He was the son of Dolopion the river-priest

Now he belongs to a great red emptiness

Like when the rainy fog pulls down its hood on the mountains

Misery for the herdsmen better than night for the thief

You can see no further than you can throw a stone

Alice Oswald, Memorial, Faber & Faber, 2011