Nearly everything here was measured,
was literally overgrown. Even countless fields of color
- -
and unfinished meteorites fell to the field at the close of the day.
This picture had many rooms with a single question,
- -
yet it couldn't be judged from here, whether that was
an off hue of blue. Metropolises gained currency, but
- -
then someone went into the woods with metal detectors.
His intentions were purely religious and I saw
- -
how our saintly egos relaxed in the shade
of the pines, the pattern of the cones under our backs,
- -
the cadence of depressions and needles everywhere
under our feet and in our pockets, needles everywhere
- -
and finally the stag's call for sleep.
Translated by Bradley Schmidt
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Well translated. Beautiful poem shared with nice theme. Thanks for sharing.