Over the churchyard a pastel of grass
Inquires from my past about the future
Hear - the wind has a different voice
As leaves chatter gentle mention its progress
Clarity of brown trunks, red fruit incidentals
The receding grass, flat spreading, wordless recedes
Autumn touches, green ochre's, through the whisper
White walls; silence stark, halt my thinking
The green gentle present, the unstated here
There is no ignoring this quiet asking
There was a depth to the air
No - only a now unchanged passing through
From afar a church bell through rain
Over fields, trees unseen, a single rock
The wood painted unfinished as when started
Here time so conjoined does not go
My feeling is here; becomes my knowledge
Stretches away, out there, by remembrance bounded
All that now will purchase - now proved
Second hand - from a bit of grass
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this poem - I like how you used the grass - and then you use the colors in terms of description - the fact that you use organized couplets is great - I am particularly intrigued by the words in the first stanza