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Oranges Three, Lemons Two
Oranges three, lemons two:
hidden equation, soon hidden no more,
formulae resident in the blue,
algebra of fruits that are ripe.
Light in the waspy yellow noon
silently swirls about all creatures.
Dried flowers in moments late and soon
rest in the selfsame drying wind.
Oranges three, lemons two.
While the silence comes on wingbeats
from the elm-crowns sweeping through,
gay with sailors, a happy craft.
And the heaven, blue as slate,
is an eye which no more shuts
over hearts: an accurate
miracle swaying under leaves.
Oranges three, lemons two:
mathematical ecstasy,
noon-dispatch from zones of blue!
Tongue keeps silence next to tongue. But
ancient meaning coos like a pigeon.
KARL KROLOW
translated by
HERMAN SALINGER