Lara Feltre

“Oh, how often you’ll remember
The sudden pain of unnamed longing

—Anna Akhmatova, from “I’ll erase this day from your memory,” trans. A. S. Kline, White Flock (Hyperborea, 1917)”
― Anna Akhmatova, White Flock

“The Wish to be Generous"

ALL that I serve will die, all my delights,
the flesh kindled from my flesh, garden and field,
the silent lilies standing in the woods,
the woods, the hill, the whole earth, all
will burn in man's evil, or dwindle
in its own age. Let the world bring on me
the sleep of darkness without stars, so I may know
my little light taken from me into the seed
of the beginning and the end, so I may bow
to mystery, and take my stand on the earth
like a tree in a field, passing without haste
or regret toward what will be, my life
a patient willing descent into the grass.

—Wendell Berry, New Collected Poems (Counterpoint, 2012)”
― Wendell Berry, New Collected Poems

“I am listening to the rustle of your long black dress
On the telephone last night as you pulled it up
A thousand miles away.
Someone could have walked in.
The husky hush of your voice.
Raise your evening gown for me forever.

— Frederick Seidel, from “Early Sunday Morning in the Cher,” These Days (Alfred A. Knopf, 1989)”
― Frederick Seidel, These Days: New Poems