Vera Pavlova
Grass
Oh praise the lowly stalk
that will not sing alone
enfolds its single talk
in general conversation
commingles with the lawn
and, neighbourlike, will share
the shade, the rain, the air
and, standing tall, will hide
the unofficial mint,
the bridegroom and the bride.
When flakes of white are blent,
and no-one is beside,
then stands alone the blade
as if it never leant,
and reaches to the skies
for seeds of paradise.
Translated by Maura DooleyTerence Dooley
Page(s) 148
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