BY GOTTFRIED BENN
TRANSLATED BY MICHAEL HOFMANN
A shadow on the wall
boughs stirred by the noonday wind
that’s enough earth
and for the eye
enough celestial participation.
How much further do you want to go? Refuse
the bossy insistence
of new impressions—
lie there still,
behold your own fields,
your estate,
dwelling especially
on the poppies,
unforgettable
because they transported the summer—
where did it go?
