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