«At twilight the swifts have no power, / to hold back that pale blue coolness. / It bursts from throats, a clamour / an outpour that can’t grow less. The swifts have no way, high / up there, overhead, of restraining / their clarion cries: "O, triumph, / see, see, how the earth’s rece...»
«My sister — Life’s overflowing today, / spring rain shattering itself like glass, / but people with monocles still complain, / and sting, politely, like snakes in the grass. The elders have their logic of course, / certainly yours is foolish, no doubt: / that eyes and lawns glow lilac...»
«It’s terrible! — all drip and listening. / Whether, as ever, it’s loneliness, / splashing a branch, like lace, on the window, / or whether perhaps there’s a witness. Choked there beneath its swollen / burden — earth’s nostrils, and audibly, / like August, far off in the dista...»
«My boat throbbed in the drowsy depths, / willows bowed, kissing collarbones, / elbows and rowlocks — oh wait, yes, / all of this might happen to anyone! Isn’t it all just trivial…a singing. / Isn’t its meaning — the lilac petals on / water, camomile’s sensuous sinking / lip...»