Make Me a Poem

where our words weaken
take the dream’s remains
and add hot water.

At the brim of the teacup
the seventh petal opens
to the boys’ forts – I want in!

Make me a stanza
from the streams’ secret mission, from the silence
beyond the village. I want to see
the hipflask left on the deer stand
and happiness over poached zander.

Make me a verse from the ancient alchemy of childhood
in return I will make you a stone
with a key to forgotten paths.
And I will give it to you.

Translated from the Czech by Ryan Scott