Читать книгу Дикий ирис. Аверн. Ночь, всеохватная ночь - Луиза Глик - Страница 73

I don’t wonder where you are anymore.

You’re in the garden; you’re where John is,

in the dirt, abstracted, holding his green trowel.

This is how he gardens: fifteen minutes of intense effort,

fifteen minutes of ecstatic contemplation. Sometimes

I work beside him, doing the shade chores,

weeding, thinning the lettuces; sometimes I watch

from the porch near the upper garden until twilight makes

lamps of the first lilies: all this time,

peace never leaves him. But it rushes through me,

not as sustenance the flower holds

but like bright light through the bare tree.