No roar to hail the red-hot face pushing up
from the distant earthy womb
No swarm of glittering blades
above the coming eastern cavaliers
No clattering parrots festooning scores
through slender sun-spattered trees
I shunned grey
the nighly palimpsests
and went to greet
the drop-like redbreast
on the blue-grey cloth of silent snow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem