Landscape Poem by Abraham Sutzkever
Landscape
Sky — the dream of a lunatic.
No sun. The sun blooms and gushes,
Metamorphosed into a hot, full,
Wild rosebush in the field.
The wind is a magician. He buttons
Day with night.
A root chatters with a root.
A cloud laughs
In sleep. A flashing eye
Winks from the forest.
Like falling stars, birds fly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/28/2026 8:17:25 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
