his flight does not lie in anatomy
between feathers and lighter bones
you sense a point where poplars
touch the sky what are swallows
a summer day long on the hill beg tal
the uneasy wheat fieldbloom between
the stalks your seat of audible wind
it is day I keep night within would
never forget more than now will
there be a day when this rustling
of trees is missing ah bird who in his wheel
carries riddles written by the land
unrecognized it stretches before you planes
a few more plants and I as border dream
that I can no longer tell
the fields apart.

Translated by Anne Posten