Venice masks

Saturday, 16 November 2013

Some Summers and Springs (no. 5) - Jaan Kaplinski

God has left us — I felt it clearly
digging the earth around a rhubarb plant.
It was black and moist. I don’t know where he is,
only a shelf full of sacred books remains of him,
a couple of wax candles, a prayer wheel and a little bell.
Coming back to the house I thought
there might still be something — the smell of lilac and honeysuckle.
Then suddenly I imagined a child’s face
there, on the other side, in eternity
looking here into time, regarding wide-eyed
our comings, goings and doings in this time-aquarium
under the light of the sun going down
and falling asleep under a water-lily leaf
somewhere far away in the west.

Jaan Kaplinski (born 1941) Estonia
Translated by the author with Fiona Sampson

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