A poplar tree beneath the
What can it do?
And the bird in the poplar tree
Dreaming, his head tucked under
His wing in near-and-far exile.
What can they do these two
In their confused entanglement
Of branches and feathers
To rearrange their lot?
Silence and a circle
Of forgetfulness protect them
Until the moment the sun
And their memories come up.
Then with his beak the bird cuts
Off short the thread of his dream
And the tree unrolls the shadow
That will guard it all day long.
(translated by Geoffrey Gardner)