«In Spasskoe, unforgettable September sheds its leaves. / Isn’t it time to close up the summer-house? / Echo traps the thudding of axe-blows in the trees, / and, past the fence, barters a herd-boy’s shout. Last night the marsh by the park shivered, too. / The moment the sun rises it vani...»
«I think I can call on words / that will last: you are there. / But if I can’t, no matter — / I’ll persist, I won’t care. I hear the muttering of wet roofs, / pale eclogues from stones and kerb. / From the opening lines, that city, / is alive in each sound, each word. You can’...»
«The noise dies. I walk on stage. / Leaning on the door’s frame, / from the far echo I try to gauge / what they’ll put against my name. Night’s shadow is focused on me, / through a thousand opera-glasses. / Abba, Father, if it may be, / see that this cup passes. I love your stubbo...»
«I am finished, but you live on. / And the wind, crying and moaning, / rocks the house and the clearing, / not each pine alone, / but all the trees together, / with the vast distance, whole, / like the hulls of vessels, / moored in a bay, storm-blown. / And it shakes them not from mis...»