Grass That's AlreadyLaughing Poem by Tsead Bruinja

each word I lay down before you
on the ground and at your feet
is a word too many

the cold grass beneath
fresh mown just wet
by the moon
it lies a day

now waiting for the sun
a hand covering its mouth
a hand hiding the joke

waiting for how

fresh mown grass
laughs

looks at me
sits up
laughs laughs laughs

each word
true word laughs
laughs
in delight

like a bed you have to
make

laughs
fresh
mown and smooth

fresh mown and glad
the grass laughs with a hand
over its mouth

and each word I later apparently gently
lay down before you on the new grass at your precious feet
is a word too many that laughs and will laugh

Translated by David Colmer