If you seek the road to my soul
take me to the stormy sea.
There you will see my life revealed
as a demolished temple; my youth
a plateau enclosed by fig trees.
My thighs: ancient lament
because of which pagan gods
bend at the knees.
Before the sea, as before death, I have no secret.
The earth and the moon become my body.
Love transplants my thoughts
into the gardens of eternity.
———
In uncut grass I lie supine, an aching maiden.
In uncut grass my heart, a warm swallow.
In golden clouds above the blue birch trees
my foolish heart travels and sings.
My heart rampant, a white hen-pigeon.
Oh, if I could be giving away bundles of happiness!
———
What do your eyes whisper to the swift birds
from distant shores?
Invisible in clover
the star-filled night flickers on your lips.
You ask me why I point my hand to the west.
I tremble lucent in the beauty of the dusk
and only with the unmistakable downward stride
I disguise the anguish of the naked flower.
You console me with a smile
which, dazzling, throws a green shadow
on the deserted lake.
The evening is golden red and so like the existent world.
The birds are flying over us
pensively.
In gentle shores the day extends into the unknown.