Show me a sign that I am your sign,
I will become a hymn, soaring like a pine.
A sign that I am chosen in your field
And all my falling leaves are healed.
Show me a sign in a buzzing bee
Seeking red honey for the grief in me.
A sign that you ache with my gray hair
And cuddle my feet in grass so fair.
I seek your voice from first dawn blue,
That the last breath has meaning too.
A woodpecker pecks at a tree. Send a beak
To peck into me the essence oblique.
That I belong with the lightning and with the worm
And with the sea, pulled out of your arm.
The sea lands on the shore and won't swim back.
Show me a sign. Like of foam a speck.
Show me a sign that in your memory borne
Is a red rose of me the thorn.
Just one image left to see
Of all the visions you revealed to me.
1968
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem