Whither Poem by Esther Kinsky
Whither
Whither the four winds that took my words
whither the dust of the way to where
grass green and gentle leaves overhead.
Winter on its way.
The water freezes at the edge
of where I walk along at once
the stream itself is stricken mute.
And likewise hush my words.
I dream a dream it all
was in the wind that smelled
so burnt so long whereto with all the leaves.
Every one to his service.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/18/2024 7:14:19 AM # 1.0.0.1119
