THE PINE TREE AND THE PANTING Poem by Peter Verhelst
THE PINE TREE AND THE PANTING
Every morning the grooves in the tree are fresh,
more bestial
It must have dug itself in during the day,
keeping itself hidden among us rolled up into a ball
against the light, paws folded across its chest
In the evening sky a pink cloud billows
We take turns at the fires
For which one of us
does it open itself stretch itself
bulge itself out
softly whimpering -
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/23/2024 5:39:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
