Someone   (Translated by Ruth and Matthew Mead)



will take the ball

from the hands that play

the game of terror.



have their own law of fire

and their fertility

is the light

and reapers and harvesters

are not native here.


Far off

stand their granaries

straw too

has a momentary power of illumination

painting loneliness.


Someone will come

and sew the green of the spring bud

on their prayer shawl

and set the child’s silken curl

as a sign

on the brow of the century.


Here Amen

must be said

this crowning of words

which moves into hiding

and peace

you great eyelid

closing on all unrest

your heavenly wreath of lashes


You most gentle of all births.