The lemon bushes overflowed
with the patter of mole paws,
the scythe shined
in its rosary of cautious water drops.
A dot, a ladybug,
ignited upon the quince berries
as the snort of a rearing pony broke through,
bored with his rub-down--then the dream took over.
Kidnapped, and weightless, I was drenched
with you, your outline
was my hidden breath, your face
merged with my face, and the dark
idea of God descended
upon the living few, amid heavenly
sounds, amid childish drums,
amid suspended globes of lightning
upon me, upon you, and over the lemons...
translated by Charles Wright
Copyright c 1978 by Oberlin College. May not
be reproduced without permission.