1.
Hear helicopter? she asks.
Not helicopter, I say,
Just fan carving
Our morning, cutting
Dreams from their moorings.
Birds on front lawn
Retreat to the Dutch Elm.
2.
Inside sculptured head of
Van Gogh on library lawn
Is nest. When chicks hatched,
When they flew off
Through Van Gogh’s eyes,
They became visions
Feathering into blue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem