drawing by petersilie

Larissa Miller's
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A Million Orange Streaks

A million orange streaks,
between them a tinge of blue.
No need to write
any more poems about autumn.

It has long ago been sung
to the very skies.
Let's exercise our veto
on the myriad lyrical words.

We won't weave any more
the words' yarn,
and bear rapturous rubbish
in a crazed rage.

But I rhyme again
all the words that exist,
unable to prefer
a wordless love to them.


Translated by Richard McKane