She hears the clatter of the dyke,
sea-bound horse’s small blue eye,
trotting on the brick road, dream-drunk,
horseshoes striking sparks in twilight.
Giddyup, girl, giddyup, calls the wind
and give voice to the inland ocean
of your heart, become the snorting of
the waves, the current off the coast
and all the water’s stories, deep
as the sainted silence of the things.
Translation: David Colmer