God Hid His Face
Selected Poems of RAJZEL ZYCHLINSKY
 
The Grass Is Tired
The brass must grow and children must die - Victor Hugo

 The grass is tired in September 
and no longer grows. 
Children no longer die 
and grow no older.
Tired is the wheel of the seasons –
a slanting sunbeam pushes it, 
a falling leaf, 
but the wheel of the seasons is tired. 
The sun can no longer set. 
The sheep lazily chew
the last bit of grass in the field – 
sated with sleep and with infinities.
 
Translated by Barnett Zumoff

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