I’m Going to Sleep
Teeth of flowers, bonnet of dew,
hands of grass, you, lovely nursemaid,
turn down the earthen sheets for me
and the quilt of weeded moss.
I’m going to sleep, my nurse, tuck me in,
put a lamp on my headboard;
a constellation; whichever you like;
both are fine; lower the light a little.
Leave me alone: you hear buds bursting open . . .
An unearthly foot rocks you from above
and a bird sketches you a few beats
so you’ll forget . . . Thanks. Oh, a favor:
if he calls again on the phone
tell him not to insist, that I’ve gone . . .
(Translated by Lauren K. Watel)