The grasshopper was a burden to me.
It knew of something hurtful to me.
In a dream I squashed the grasshopper.

Why was the grasshopper such a burden?
Its singing hindered me from sleeping,
All flesh is grass was still its burden.

Unlike the owl, the bat, the loris,
The grasshopper is no power of darkness.
It sings at ease in the light of the sun.

Did I lie at ease in the light of the sun?
The grasshopper hindered me from sleeping.
If so, then how could I be dreaming?
The grasshopper is no more a burden.

Send Letters To:

The Editor
London Review of Books,
28 Little Russell Street
London, WC1A 2HN

Please include name, address, and a telephone number.

Read anywhere with the London Review of Books app, available now from the App Store for Apple devices, Google Play for Android devices and Amazon for your Kindle Fire.

Sign up to our newsletter

For highlights from the latest issue, our archive and the blog, as well as news, events and exclusive promotions.

Newsletter Preferences