JAMES WRIGHT

Small Frogs Killed On the Highway

Still,
I would leap too
Into the light,
If I had the chance.
It is everything, the wet green stalk of the field
On the other side of the road.
They crouch there, too, faltering in terror
And take strange wing. Many
Of the dead never moved, but many
Of the dead are alive forever in the split second
Auto headlights more sudden
Than their drivers know.
The drivers burrow backward into dank pools
Where nothing begets
Nothing.

Across the road, tadpoles are dancing
On the quarter thumbnail
Of the moon. They can't see,
Not yet.

Catalina-Nicoleta Ghita

James Wright
 

Broscute ucise pe autostrada
 

Si totusi,
As sari si eu in lumina
Daca as avea ocazia.
Peste drum
Sunt de toate, lujerii verzi ai campului.
Se ghemuiesc acolo si ele, tremurand de frica,
Si pornesc intr-o ciudata traversare.
Multe dintre cele moarte
Nu s-au mişcat deloc, dar multe
dintre cele moarte traiesc de-a pururi in clipa
In care farurile apar fara de veste,
Mai repede decat se asteapta soferii.
Ei se adapostesc indarat in mlastini reci
In care nimicul se naste
din nimic.

Peste drum, mormolocii danseaza
Pe patrarul unghiei mari
a lunii. Ei nu vad.
Inca.