Today's poem is by John Balaban
translated from the Bulgarian with the author,
Well, he lived among us and hated winters.
He moved to Arles where summer and blue jays
obliged him to cut off his ear.
Oh, they all said it was a whore
but Rachel was innocent. When cypresses
went for a walk in the prison yard
he went along and sketched them.
His suns surpassed God's.
He spelled out the Gospel for miners
and their potatoes stuck in his throat.
Yes, he was a priest in sackcloth, who hoped
that one day humans would learn to walk.
He willed mankind his shoes.
Copyright © 2006 John Balaban All rights reserved
from Path, Crooked Path
Copper Canyon Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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