A SNOW MILL
scratched like a plank
the joiner sets aside
I walk along the river, call down seven thunders
bright & regal on my head
beneath the bridges winter birds fly here & there
the water empty
high above our heads the snow mill’s
crunch of straw
Derived from a poem by Jan Skacel
Transcreations from Czech by Jerome Rothenberg & Milos Sovak
Posted over on Poems and Poetics
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