In the feathergrass steppe
Sources lie buried,
The thirsty sun knows
Life isn’t raspberries.
In barren haymeadows
A child tarries,
Walnut crosier
Outstretched, gold-eyed,
The bracing treasure,
Slender, streams.
They bubble deep,
Both song and splashes, –
In the live coppice
An April peal.
More wondrous than God’s lightning bolts,
The artesian well fills
The sham spays’ dry dugs
With love’s hypogean milk.
(Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin)
More Poetry from Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin:
- The Sense Of Your Bidding (Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin Poems)
- Fuji In A Saucer: The Poem (Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin Poems)
- May Dew (Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin Poems)
- Sun, Sun (Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin Poems)
- Where Will I Find Words (Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin Poems)
- When Someone Says: " alexandria""=" (Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin Poems)