Drive up to where the smooth road takes a bend.
A peep-look in the rear-vision has you knowing
corn-poppy pretty much behind is what’s ahead
to venture forth into a green Mazury flowing;
table-lakes on which you gamble for an end;
from a road that knows now where it's going:
don’t deliberate but take the turn instead,
let it deliver you by petering out into these old
white, thatch-roof cottages of rambling farms
carved into shape by church or pagan pillage
and that a mother-meadow’s ambling arms.
embrace your no-direction hillocks, rolled
up into the parcel-prospect of a village;
unpack and shack up here, knowing
that in this you have at last arrived.
I felt this Sonnet soak into me. Such a lot of images in the meaning, or is it the other way round. This is a favourite of mine. I get hooked on illiteration. Illuminating and soperific at the same time. Thanks: - Janet
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is an enjoyable nature poem, John. You brought the high country to life - thanks for the ride. A '10! ' from me. Best wishes, Marilyn