Once, I Poem by Jane Hirshfield

Once, I



Once, I
was seven Spanish bullocks in a high meadow,
sleepy and nameless.

As-ifness strange to myself, but complete.

Light on the neck-nape
of time
as two wings of one starling,

or lovers so happy
neither needs think of the other.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Jane Hirshfield

Jane Hirshfield

New York / United States
Close
Error Success