The duiker grazing on the lawn
was perhaps just what I saw inside of me
as early morning eased into the dawn
of half-waking’s outward serenity.
Did what was there impinge upon the mind
as branches of a tree when barely stirred by wind?
Or had cold dreams from which I had not woken
gone out in search of something yet unspoken?
I entered sleep again;
the small deer was gone
from a world plain
and warm as an unturned stone
beneath a sun that shone
on all that was undone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem