A Poem For Sunday

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“Not a Raven” by Nina Cassian:

A bird—very close to me,
a kind of relative,
showed me a hidden spring
in the woods.
I tasted it,
and suddenly leaves covered my body.
Two squirrels
jumped on my shoulders.
The spring itself
engulfed my legs
like a transparent weed.

We stayed like this
till evening fell.

Then the bird announced to me
my youth had come to an end.

(From Continuum: Poems © 2008 by Nina Cassian. Used by permission of W.W.Norton & Company. Photo by Martin Fisch)