Song of the Earth

All our different languages
Yet trees, grasses and stones
Have the same vocabulary;
Blowing snow and mountain pines
Express a shared language;
Cresting waves and rippling dunes
Breathe the same breath in speech.
All our different languages
You’d think the earth
Could have translated hate
Into the music of a wild meadow,
And washed away any semblance
In the waves of our lakes…
You’d think we at least
Could have picked up a few
Beach stones and memorized
Each other’s faces without words.

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