In July Poem by Ulrike Almut Sandig
In July
was the tar moist and void, the stallions
occasionally tore riderless right through the place,
or the youngest came by and then moved on.
or the parents went forward to the fence
to talk quietly. no one was concerned any further, every
step could be heard, till with its machines august
cut what already had swished.
Translated by Bradley Schmidt
Thursday, May 18, 2017
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5/1/2024 5:24:04 PM # 1.0.0.1119
