Grass

Oh praise the lowly stalk

that will not sing alone

enfolds its single talk

in general conversation

commingles with the lawn

and, neighborlike, 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 Dooley and Terence Dooley