Writing nature poems is a complicated business,
something to think long about, sigh over,
in Dutch, for instance, about 'boom' and 'rood', how they differ,
how to remove the difference. Processes, you think,
how water dissolves ink, something of that kind -
but how does a 'boom' make its way to 'rood'?
Does dying light suggest itself? Reject it.
Someone hanging from a bough, bleeding? Winter,
and in it, a robin? And more of that sort. Nothing
fits the bill. Then: you dismiss the 'b' at the beginning,
and the sealing-off the 'm', treat the 'r' as disposable, say
that 'd' is dead, and you are left with: two times 'oo'.
Not beautiful, pretty bare, an almost helpless 'o, o!'.
Writing nature poems is demolition work.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem