This Wagtail in Venice
 
translated from the Danish of Sten Kaalø
 
met this wagtail
in Venice
early one morning
in the chilly air
outside the baker’s
 
the canals 
shimmered
constantly 
poles and palaces
seemed to
skip
in the water
 
the bell headstocks
of the churches
groaned ominously
the clanging began
the pigeons all
took flight
as if in fright
though they
heard it
every morning
 
the wagtail
walked unruffled
outside the baker’s
wagging its tail
and bagging
the crumbs
 
the fragrance
of fresh bread
followed me
out from the baker’s
formed a symbiosis
with the canal’s
rotten stench
 
turned into
a smell
of the Middle Ages
carnival
and plague

the Grand Canal
meandered
green beneath
the Rialto Bridge
 
the water bus
drew up
at its stop
the Venetians
got on and off
the driver was on his phone
 
three men
in bloodstained
white garb
came tramping over
the white bridge
 
looking
for all the world like
three assassins
but they were no doubt just butchers
on their way to work
 
I walked past
the glass shop
stopped a moment at
the milliner’s window
and outside
the toy shop
 
came back to the baker’s
the wagtail was there
wagging
and bagging
it barely
let people
pass
perhaps
it was laying in supplies
 
I crossed the square
with its church
Santa Maria di Formosa
twenty yards on
turned left
onto Calle del Sole
and was home
for breakfast
with rolls 
and somehow
this wagtail
 
Duncan Gillies MacLaurin

 
If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Duncan Gillies MacLaurin would be pleased to hear them