«In your long jackets, broad-brimmed hats, / with notebooks of your poems, / you disintegrated long ago in dust / like fallen lilac blossom. Yours is a country free of ready forms, / where all is mingled, fractured, dislocated, / where there’s no sky — only a grave mound — / and th...»
«They’ve cut a hole in the deep / dense blue of the ice: / a breathing space for big fish and little, / water for bringers of buckets, / a way out for a weary traveler / if she and life turn out after all / to be traveling different roads / and she has nowhere to go.»
«I pardon all your sins — / but two I can’t abide: / You read poems in silence / and kiss aloud. So sin, blossom, be merry — / but take my advice: / a kiss, my darling, is not for the ear, / and music is not for the eyes.»
«Black as the pupil of an eye, sucking at light / like the pupil of an eye, I love you, far-sighted night. Give me the voice to sing of you, godmother of every hymn, / you in whose hand lie the bridles of the four winds. Calling on you, extolling you, I am no more than / a shell where the sea...»