A SONG OF LONGING FOR

I long for a very skilful midwife,

for everything
to be neatly settled
by a quarrel,

and for a naked horse to walk along this way
from a street corner.

I long for no such thing
as a pension,

and even fires to break out as usual
with a keen-sighted man watching in the watchtower.
“A whale-shark!
Let’s get it!”
Sallying forth on their boats,
they find the sea’s surface boiling silver all over
and a lot of bonitos
caught.

Men and women
always sweating,
chasing and being chased
with sparkling laughter . . .

with no need to mention
how wonderful that is.

A SONG OF LONGING FOR