poem

1. i and the Village
(after Marc Chagall)
Dew drops into jade a three-quarter moon.
Love O love ! Your uprooted flower dissipates
Its scentedness onto my hand, soon
O soon recalling to me a certain music -
My fate was always to leave the place
where moon danced with subtle Neptune!
All dissolves -
save your remembered face,
your laughing in the street and your dancing for the moon!
Your jade rings and your flower are my jewel,
shading everything green, and purple, a rich blue.
Dew drops into jade a jewelled moon,
Her white flower dissolves under blue.
I remember a face, now caught into light,
now a tone, a jewelled ring, a certain bright hue –