«I seem adroit at picking words / As primordial as your words are. / If wrong, — it’s all the same to me, / I’ll go on making errors anyway. I hear patter on wet roofs, and eclogues / That fade from boardwalks and cobblestones. / A certain city, distinct from the first line, / Thri...»
«You have a right, turning out your pockets, / To say: rummage, grope, search. / To me clearer than finding cheese / In a daze, is the fact — morning in March. Trees with fleecy peasant coats / Stand in the half-exposed soil. / Outside the close room, the weight / On the branches seems...»
«Unbelievable, — they declared, — rubbish, / But I overheard it from a second, / Third, everyone. Into stopped time / Lined up without distinction were / Houses of officials and business men, / With yards and trees covered with / Rook-cocks, in sun’s intoxication, / Flaring up at ...»
«Sleep on a Summer’s Night / (Five Verses) 1 A heated conversation. Not quite ended, / Until suddenly: abrupt departure! / Letting hair down from the swarm of squabbling / Like a crescendo of Chopinesque etudes. As if a hurt genius, you divide up the salmon / In the white house across ...»