To translate a poem
from thinking
into English
takes all night
night    nights and days

English does
the best it can    while
the mother’s tongue   Russian
omits the verb to be
again and again and
is always interfering
with the excited in-
dustrious brain   wisely
the heart beat asserts
control

also the newest English
argues with its old 
singing ancestry
it thinks it knows best

finally    the night’s
hard labor peers through
the morning window  observes
snow   birds    the sun caught
in white and black winter
birches    disentangles itself
addresses the ice-cold meadow
for hours on the beauty of
the color green