Monday, March 10, 2014

Night Morning

To translate a poem
from thinking
into English
takes all night
night    nights and days

English does
the best it can   while
the mother's tongue    Russian
omits the verb to be
again and again and
is always interfering
with the excited in-
dustrious brain    wisely
the heart's beat asserts
control

also the newest English
argues with its old
singing ancestry
it thinks it knows best

finally    the night's
hard labor peers through
the morning window    observes

snow    birds    the sun caught
in white and black winter
birches   disentangles itself
addresses the ice-cold meadow
for hours on the beauty of
the color green

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by Grace Paley, 2008