As night turns to gray dawn
I begin to see our lawn
That lawn, prosaic, bourgeois and a common sight
Is the green mask of beauty for deeper things we do not like
Where all would be lost if not for a candle's light
That calls our souls to prayer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the image of a lawn being a mask for something else, even if you don't say what that something is. Those middle two lines really stand out. Bravo.