"The Bells."
This poem is translated by Renata Gorczynski and C. K.
Williams.
"The Bells."
We'll take refuge in bells, in the swinging bells,
in the peal, in the air, in the heart of ringing.
We will take refuge in bells and we'll
be floating over the Earth in their heavy shells.
Over the Earth, over fields, towards
meadows which are carried by the young ash trees.
Towards village churches under the veil of morning
haze, and forests running like herds
of antelopes towards mills that soundlessly turn
their wheels by the stream.
Over the Earth, over meadows and a white daisy,
over the bench on which love carved an imperfect sign.
Over a willow obedient to the will of the cool wind,
over the school where, in the evening,
Latin words converse with each other.
Over the deep pond, over crying and mourning,
over binoculars shining in the sun.
Over calendars that have filled themselves with time
and lie at the bottom of the drawer peacefully
like Greek amphoras in the sea.
Over the border, over your attentive
gaze, over the pupil of someone's eye.
Over a rusty cannon, over the garden gate which is no more.
Over clouds, over rain drinking dew, over a snail
that doesn't know whose statue it is climbing.
Over an express train that breezes past,
over a boy who is knotting a tie before a school dance,
over the town park where a Swiss penknife lost a long time ago
still lies hidden.
When night comes, we'll take refuge in bells,
in the light vehicles, in the balloons of bronze."