Poetry

Doesn't, when we touch it, that sheen of infinitesimally      pebbled steel, doesn't it, perhaps, give just a bit, yes, the subtlest yielding, much less than flesh      would, we realize that, but still, as though it were intending in some formal way that      at last we were to be in contact with the world of inorganics,…

The wild snow foretelling winter the snow that whistles down the supernatural into the ordinary world the snow that covers the little matchgirl while she dreams the snow that melts in the gypsies' campfire that melts in their song that snakes over the black branches in the North of France where my aunt calls to…

     The big one went to sleep as to die and dreamed he became a tiny one. So tiny as to have lost all substance. To have become as theoretical as a point.      Then someone said, get up, big one, you're not doing yourself any good. You puddle and stagnate in your weight. Best to be…

The moon shines down over the public ferry, Alone, I'm overwhelmed by thoughts of home. Birds roost in the trees round Lake P'eng-li, The moon mounts high up above the boat on the      Chien-ch'ang. Dead drunk, old fishermen disperse from the market, In secluded buildings travelling merchants sleep. Where is that flute playing across the…

trans. Bulgarian Jascha Kessler and Alexander Shurbanov It was in the Fall of '56 that I stood where I stand still: they're drilling 20-year old marines in diving. Dolphins leap with the sheer joy of it, keeping time in the sea with them. As for me, I stumble on in grief at the mere thought…

Don't ask how many complaints I have about her black            curls. I am so undone because of her that it's beyond telling. Let no one abandon heart and faith in hope of fidelity. I did. Do not ask me how sorry I am. With one gulp of wine which troubles no one I drew…

On the river at Mu-chou,      west of the water gate, They raised the oars, hoisted the sail,      and we released our embrace. Today, at the sky's shore,      I sit deep into the night, Heart-broken and haunted by the memory      of leaving Ah Yin.

                       Standing            between good and evil,      between the two frozen poles,                        at last            between man and man,                  and, looking hard,      I simply cannot understand how in the world life can make both ends meet.

     There are two things you have      to worry about about her:      she opens up for you      and she closes up on you,      but you shouldn't worry      too much about it because      this is the way she is      and this is the way you are: You just shouldn't mention her name. She loves you in her…