Be as moss along a braided river,
ever scrubbed from the pebbles,
earth's polished bones dis-lodged,
be as a drifting branch;
if you become entangled,
petition the west wind
to propel you downriver,
past the dwarf fire-weed,
past the salmon fry,
past the cattails in the salt marsh,
a shadow of longing
inhaled in gelid embrace
by the fierceness of waves
during a summer storm.
Above the 61st parallel, the colors of Autumn mark our parting with the bees, and the last days of real warmth. I had begun to transl...
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There is a song clinging like a drowsy bat to the dingy ceiling of a dungeon, deep within the labyrinthine palace of my memories, a melody...
Alexander Scriabin: the Poem of Ecstasy (English translation by Faubion Bowers) (See the original here .) Spirit, Winged with the...
A dreamless sleep falls from the shimmering leaves. --Sappho fragment, tr. Andrew Bellon I changed, thickened, ...