I asked the old ones how to say thank you.
They told me to open my mouth and speak.
As soon as they left me in peace, I forgot.
I am like that. Absent-minded, hazy.
Wherever you wandered, did I follow,
or did you pursue me along the way,
souls of my soul, dread incense, sea-eagles,
piercing, with your fierce talons, a pale tree?
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, ...