The Silence

I sit in the grass,
But I'm not alone.
On a corn-flower, swinging lightly
Next to my feet, a buterfly
Sucking honey from its blue heart.

As if used to my presence.
The two of us alone.

Dobriša Cesarić

So, in the late hours I saw above the field
The ears of grain breaking up in the mouth of a wind.

Pablo Neruda

That world, dew drops:
Maybe it is a dew drop -
Still ... still ...