Pollen and meadow-grass seeds swim in the wellspring Poem by Hasso Krull

Pollen and meadow-grass seeds swim in the wellspring.
A clear spring. As I extend the jug with my hand
I notice that a snail floats on the water, too,
and a red frog waits on a stone, ready to escape.

A clear spring. I notice the vigor of the algae at the bottom
as it hovers around the stones in gorgeous streaks,
like soft carpet. In the meantime, the frog decides
to jump into the water, and after a few powerful strokes

it climbs out the other side. Now the mosquitoes
have noticed me. Working faster, I scoop the snail
out with the jug, fill the buckets quickly, a pair of green
lice and one spider soak in the luminous water.

The water of the spring is clear, that of a dream.
The earth's dream, lucid and very old. I hurry
over the hill like a scale with two weights, then
drink water from a cup, meadow-grass seeds in my mouth.