How many, after a shorter or longer life (if they still see a difference), good, because it’s beginning, bad, because it’s over (if they don’t prefer the reverse),
Devo moltoa quelli che non amo.Il sollievo con cui accettoche siano più vicini a un altro.La gioia di non essere ioil lupo dei loro agnelli.Mi sento in pace con loroe in libertà con loro,e questo l'am...
ClassifiedsWHOEVER’S found out what locationcompassion (heart’s imagination)can be contacted at these days,is herewith urged to name the place;and sing about it in full voice,and dance like crazy and...
I usually write for the individual reader -though I would like to have many such readers. There are some poets who write for people assembled in big rooms, so they can live through something collectiv...
Everyone needs solitude, especially a person who is used to thinking about what she experiences. Solitude is very important in my work as a mode of inspiration, but isolation is not good in this respe...
¿Y si todo esto sucede en un laboratorio? ¿Bajo sólo una lámpara de día y miles de millones por la noche?
When I pronounce the word Future,the first syllable already belongs to the past.When I pronounce the word Silence,I destroy it.
So what can they tell us, the writers of dream books,the scholars of oneiric signs and omens, the doctors with couches for analyses— if anything fits, it’s accidental, and for one reason only, that in...
AstonishmentWhy after all this one and not the rest?Why this specific self, not in a nest, But a house? Sewn up not in scales, but skin?Not topped off by a leaf, but by a face?Why on earth now, on Tue...
Each of us has a very rich nature and can look at things objectively, from a distance, and at the same time can have something more personal to say about them. I am trying to look at the world, and at...
Would we really be driven to darkest despair by the news that life doesn’t exist beyond Earth? (…) But let’s stop and think about such a revelation. Would that really be the worst of all possible news...
They’ll reenter their lives’ cages, where love’s tiger sometimes rages, but the beast’s too tame to bite. We’ll
The joy of writing.
So poets keep on trying, and sooner or later the consecutive results of their self-dissatisfaction are clipped together with a giant paperclip by literary historians and called their oeuvres. I
So poets keep on trying, and sooner or later the consecutive results of their self-dissatisfaction are clipped together with a giant paperclip by literary historians and called their oeuvres.
History didn’t greet us with triumphal fanfares: —it flung dirty sand into our eyes. Ahead of us lay long roads leading nowhere, poisoned wells and bitter bread.
Dimenticano che la vita non è qui.Altre leggi, nero su bianco, vigono qui.Un batter d’occhio durerà quanto dico io,si lascerà dividere in piccole eternitàpiene di pallottole fermate in volo.Non una co...
We treat each other with exceeding courtesy;we says, it’s great to see you after all these years.Our tigers drink milk.Our hawks tread the ground.Our sharks have all drowned.Our wolves yawn beyond the...
Merciless song, you leave me with my lone, nonconvertible, unmetamorphic body: I’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones. Four A.M. The hour between night and day. The hour between toss and turn. Th...
I am too near to be dreamt of by him.I do not fly over him, do not escape from himunder the roots of a tree. I am too near.Not in my voice sings the fish in the net,not from my finger rolls the ring.I...