I Will Again Greet the Sun

to the sun i will again give greetings
to the brook that streamed within me
to the clouds that were my long thoughts
to the aching growth of the garden’s white poplars
that passed the dry seasons with me
to the flocks of crows
that bore the scent of the fields at night
as a gift to me
to my mother who lived within the mirror
and was the figure of my old age
and to the earth, whose burning core
i filled with green seed
in my lust for rebirth—
greetings, i will again give


i will come, i will come, i will come
with my hair: the extension of subterranean smells
with my eyes: dense experiences of darkness
with bushes i have picked from thickets on the other side of the wall
i will come, i will come, i will come
and the threshold will fill with love
and i, on the threshold, to those who love,
and the girl still there,
standing on the love-filled threshold, will again give greetings