The Far South

This year, early fall in the far south, 
I steep myself in the sea, sand, and sun, 
in trees, in apples like honey.
At night the air smells like ripening grain: 
the night sky descends on the hot dusty road, 
and I steep myself in stars.

I'm really getting to know
                           the sea, sand, sun, apples, stars.
It's time to go mix
                           with the sea, sand, sun, apples, stars.

                                      8 September 1958
                                      Arhipo Osipovka