Slowing for the Blue-Carred Mailman
Thrown against the buzzing day
Stretched hot and shimmering,
In the fields of Morning Glory
and Queen Anne's Lace;
Strangely alone, paused
near Snow Camp, North Carolina
Star Route 1;
Watching a tortoise* pass,
My life lasts another moment
(A long way off
A small shed's roof,
Probably tin,
Shines silver and gray) .
I wonder
At the slow marvel of charts passing,
Mysterious and unforeseen,
Maps depicting the circle squared
Or the completion of Fibonacci
Or at least some simple freedom,
So slowly it crawls
Across the Southern road.
*In Asian lore, the tortoise's shell is the Map of Heaven.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem