SLIVER OF SPRING

When space without contour concludes
                  in a cloud,
its vast indecision gone adrift,
                  —Where the shore?—
while the rivers curving course
                  goes on
seeking in twists and turns, sketching
                  its outcome,
while the hard green water
                  disavows its fish
beneath the deep ambiguous reflection
                  of a tremulous breeze...
when morning guides its slow
                  row of poplars
thanks to the rhythmic wakes
                  among the fronds,
aided by the sinuous onrush
                  that synchronizes
the smooth undulation of the sky
                  above its wind
with the swift swish of the bubbles
                  briskly rowing...
Sliver of spring between the oars
                  of the boatmen!