This Leaf Poem by Vic Postnikov

This leaf, this withered leaf,
Which listlessly downward drifts,
Tomorrow will rise again,
Will settle on a branch’s sprig.

This snow, this purest snow,
Which lies on the ground still,
To the heavens tomorrow will soar,
To the stars it will steer.

This bow-backed, grey-haired man,
Like a mirrored light in space,
Will come back to his derelict home,
And start living anew his days.

We will see how the rivers turn
To their springs in the thicket depth,
And I’ll wake at the break of dawn
On my mother’s lap.

- Imant Ziedonis

Translated by Van Postnikov