ALL THAT REMAINS OF ANGELS
Morning,
trees still bandaged
all the rest untouched,
between two poplars
half asleep in flight
a levitating angel
Through cracks in sleep
he sings
The first one on the street
he whom that song would wound
may stand there half suspecting
yet never catching a glimpse
A greenness
all that remains
of those angels
Derived from a poem by Jan Skacel
Transcreations from Czech by Jerome Rothenberg & Milos Sovak
Posted over on Poems and Poetics
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