Grass is controlled by angels:
Each one for every blade.
Then in the world how many
Watch over your head?
How many quick molecules
Of light flow into your brain?
Then somewhere they dissociate,
But recording remains.
***
Траву контролирует ангел.
У каждой травинки - свой.
А сколько же их в мирозданьи
Следит за твоей головой?
И сколько же быстрых молекул
Из Света втекает в тебя.
Они распадаются где-то,
Но запись сохранена.
Liza I see the pattern of your thought in this poem: if every blade of grass has an angel guardian, we humans can be assured of divine attention and help when needed. And your second stanza could be my experiene of a divine light that failed but still burns how ever faintly within. Because something whose origin is the Eternal cannot finally die. Then again it could be as the Gnostics taught, it could be there is spiritual Light trapped in all matter, waiting to be released.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Recording remains! With the muse of mankind on earth. Thanks for sharing.