Vera Chizhevskaya
Moon Bathing
The whiteness of fog
approaches a river.
“What does it want?”
asks the grass.
“What’s it looking for?”
marvels the sand.
“Why doesn’t it clear?”
wonder the stars.
But the fog waits
for the moon to emerge from the stream,
shaking the water off.
Translated by Daniel Weissbort
Page(s) 42
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