My attention is a tall
person: he will if idle
make a string alive where there
was no life: he will
type and edit my
ethereal poetry:
he will wind his mind tight
around my meaning
or, undistracted by
other media, translate
cat perfectly: he will
pounce on a stalled riddle
and wrestle the mind numb:
attention, calm human
I see, as he coughs in my
face, dislodges string
in my belly; lie down, be
still, have mercy, here
is poetry, mews of poetry, write
it out, run with it
Translator's Note: While I was away on vacation, Dima was studying a lot of poetry by A.R. Ammons, whose works were recently donated to East Carolina University. Although Dima is a fine poet, I had to repeatedly explain to him that East Carolina was not a state. This dampered his spirit to visit the place on his vacation. Nevertheless, he produced this poem with me in mind. Additional note: the title is not "My Translator."
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