An old pond.
Frog,
flop,
splash.

I quite like James Kirkup, and I'll say he didn't influence me here. I wrote this piece in my mind while in the shower, a week after reading the post.

As a bilingual, I always love such posts, that dwell on the ambiguities of literature and language and where they intersect. I don't always have the time to read. I rarely have the time to comment.
I always have the time to be appreciative of these posts. Good job, David.

But I probably like Ross Figgins's or Nobuyuku Yuasa's versions best. They speaks most to me. They have the resonance and lyricity of silence within them.