In the park
just before dark
the birds are
chirping all around me
& brown crinkly leaves
are falling, landing softly
& I can hear
the chatter of beautiful
strangers & the breathing
of sleeping babies, even
their whimpers upon waking
Yes, it is here
that the ants
crawl on crisp
little twigs
yes, I am here
enveloped in emerald
dusk, in the middle
of this fragrant
March air
Still,
this serenity
is so often interrupted
by random grips of terror
itchiness,
crawling sensations,
the sound of buzzing
Bugs!
God's vilest,
yet most prolific creations
Oh! they're insufferable, detestable,
& everywhere!
Yes: beauty, bugs, & all
it's high time
to leave this place
& go home to my,
at least seemingly,
bugless sanctuary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
EMERALD DUSK and FRAGRANT MARCH AIR - two lovely images of early spring at the end of the third stanza, and the end of the poem? I want it to end there and not include the b-u-g-s. Put them in another poem, and you can call it The Exterminator. But this poem called aptly SANCTUARY is complete in three stanzas. The extreme sensory sensitivity - you can hear leaves, babies' whimpers, an ant - deserves closure. OK, all your bugs off the set. We're going for a three-stanza evocation of the sweetness of spring!