Translation
On a rock over the water hyacinth,
facing away from the setting sun
a great blue heron stood runic.
To move would have been a translation
of wings from the language of water
and stone, of coursing across
permanence, to the language
of sky, wind, clouds, the realm
of uncertainty.
Impatient, my mind
on the tasks of dailiness, I turned away,
but hesitated (that’s all!) and turned
back to stone, to white flowers,
to the heron already flown.
From Bodies of Light, permission by the author
Traducción
En una piedra sobre el jacinto acuático,
de espaldas a la puesta del sol,
una garza azulada se quedó rúnica.
Moverse hubiera sido una traducción
de las alas del lenguaje del agua
y de la piedra, atravesando
la permanencia hacia el lenguaje
del cielo, del viento, de las nubes, y del reino
del incertidumbre.
Impaciente mi mente
en los quehaceres de lo cotidiano, me di la vuelta
pero dudé (¡es todo!) y me volví
piedra, flores blancas,
y me convertí en la garza que se había volado.
De: Bodies of Light, Cuerpos de luz, con permiso del autor
Athena Kildegaard has authored six books of poetry and is co-editor of an anthology of poems about motherhood. Her poems have been set to music by a variety of composers. She has received grants from the Minnesota State Arts Board & two fellowships from the Lake Region Arts Counci
*Translated by Sarah Degner Riveros