ARDENNES

Cup your hands to draw up memory
of the dead names dried grain
again the forest: a charred cloud
forehead branded by black light
and a thousand lids pressed
tightly on motionless eyeballs
a tree and the air broken
betrayed faith of empty shelters

That other forest is for us is for you
the dead also ask for fairy tales
for a handful of herbs water of memories
therefore by needles by rustling
and faint threads of fragrances—
no matter that a branch stops you
a shadow leads you through winding passages—
you will find and open
our Ardennes Forest

– Zbigniew Herbert

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