Proizka Muehle, Germany near Hamburg, deep in the countryside; the birdsongs are dazzling here. Strong and symphonic. The trees are more serious looking than those in the South of England, a darker green and muscular, in order to hold the multitudes of winged singers, the heavy sky.

More than one hundred people are gathered here at the Sufi Summerschool; from Germany, Switzerland, France, Holland, Estonia, Latvia, UK, Poland, New Zealand, Russia, and California. In two hours I’ll teach with a translator, named Fatima, from Zurich. Ten poems have been translated into German for discussion in both languages. I don’t know German and have never been here before, but these poems from Married to Muhammad  have a life of their own– not often the line between two points.

Roethke writes: I am overwhelmed by the beautiful disorder of poetry, the eternal virginity of words… In poetry there are no casual readers.

Songbirds and poppies. Twilight until 11 PM.

Greetings from Germany.

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