Motion like the spirit of that wind whose soft step deepens slumber
Motionless as a plumb line
Mountains like frozen wrinkles on a sea
Moving in the same dull round, like blind horses in a mill
Mute as an iceberg
My age is as a lusty Winter
My body broken as a turning wheel
My breath to Heaven like vapor goes
My head was like a great bronze bell with one thought for the clapper
My heart is as some famine-murdered land