Listen, laureate poets
just wander amid the plants
whose names are rare: boxus, ligustrum or acanthus.
I prefer instead small country-roads that open onto
the green ditches where, in half-dry puddles,
boys snatch some skinny eels:
the lanes that follow the edges,
slope trough the clumps of cane
And lead down to the orchards, among the lemon trees.
(Leading to the orchards, among the lemon grove.)