He is gone — I cannot eat:
The taste — of stale bread.
All — chalk.
Anything I am drawn to.
...I am the bread that was
And the snow that was.
And the snow was not white
And the bread was unloved.
Ушёл — не ем:
Пуст — хлеба вкус.
Всё — мел.
За чем ни потянусь.
…Мне хлебом был,
И снегом был.
И снег не бел,
И хлеб не мил.
«A woman standing in the doorway; / In sunset — head to feet. / Winding black yarn on her black shuttle. / She watched the sun retreat. Her hand, in shadow at her temple. / Would Hash and lie down then; / That mountaineer's quick hand was winding / My life like yarn again. An ox, munc...»
«A bird-catcher’s job takes practice: / Learn the habits of the birds, / Know the time of their migrations. / Duplicate their different calls. But as he roams down the roadways, / Spending a night by a fence, / Diedel is happy, Diedel does / Sing his songs and catch his birds. Nightin...»
«Among fish, among stars / A fishing boat sneaks / To Odessa with contraband, / Manned by three Greeks. / Hanging over the starboard / Where the chasm is near us: / Yanaki, Stavraki / And Papa Satyros. / Look how the wind whoops / And comes howling ...»
«(a railroad happening) Once when Grandma moved her hand / the train stopped immediately / for the children — and it said, / "drink your porridge and valise". / In the morning they came back. / Children sat down on the fence / and they said, ‘You, raven-horse. / You may work but I ...»