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from the July 2004 issue


Let's not muddy the water.

Imagine that close by a dove

is drinking from it,

or in a distant grove a finch

is washing its wings in it,

or in some village it fills a storage jar.

Let's not muddy the water.

Perhaps this flowing stream runs

by the foot of a poplar tree

and eases some heart's grief.

A dervish, perhaps,

has moistened his crust in it.

A young woman stood on its bank---

the water doubled her beauty.

Let's not muddy the water.

How delicious this water is!

How refreshing this stream!

Those people who live upstream,

how fortunate they are!

May their springs be ever fresh,

their cows always fertile!

I haven't seen their village,

But surely, God's foot is on

their threshing floor and

the moonlight there illuminates

the width of their words.

The walls are low in the village upstream.

Blue there is really blue.

When buds blossom, they know, those people.

What a village it must be!

May its streets be filled with music!

Those people by the stream

Have left it clear.

Let's not muddy the water.
Read more from the July 2004 issue
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