Sporadic Poem by Esther Kinsky
Sporadic
Sporadic celebratory longings
for the breathlessness of numbers
one two three seven the rule
of increasing utterability ach
seven hills streams and the like
between the beech trunks all was
spread and dappled with light
had I not noticed then the rumour
going round of can't-go-on?
my search will be as always for
the unharnessed prayer say let us
enter into the defenced cities
and be silent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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6/16/2024 6:24:52 PM # 1.0.0.1119
