My shadow moves silently Upon the water in the ditch.
Upon my shadow are the frogs Blocked off from the stars.
The shadow demands from my body Unmoving images.
My shadow skims the water like a huge Violet-colored mosquito.
A hundred crickets try to mine gold From the light in the rushes
A light born in my heart Upon the ditch, reflected.
A speaker stands beside a ditch at night, watching his own shadow fall across the water. The shadow takes on a life of its own: it blocks the frogs from the stars, demands stillness from his body, and skims the surface like an oversized violet mosquito. The images are small and strange, and the scene feels hushed, almost hypnotic. Nothing here is explained, and that seems to be the point.
The last two stanzas shift things. Crickets "mine gold" from the light in the rushes, a lovely, slightly absurd picture of tiny creatures working hard at something precious. Then the speaker admits the light is "born in my heart" and only reflected in the ditch. The outer scene, in other words, may be an inner one. The mood is quiet and dreamlike, a moment where feeling and landscape blur. The title suggests music, and the poem's soft, shimmering quality fits that idea.