We present this work in honor of the 95th anniversary of the poet’s death.

 

Bitter and wild — the smell of the earth:
The fields are o’ergrown with dark carnations!
Having flung my garments onto the grass,
I burn, like a candle, in the evening field.
Running into the distance, my steps are moist,
Tenderly naked, I blossom by the water.
Like white coral in an overgrowth of vines,
I am scarlet in the scarlet of my scarlet hair.

Translated by Temira Pachmuss