They sang the final song of loveand died full of gravity together with the autumn the leaves of my countrythe thin December wind took them buried them without grandeur wherever it couldplanted a cross of sweat on every head and left they held mass in the winter churchuntil autumn there I will wait for the final song of sorrow…
The branches weep with an epic lamentshrink into the trunks and write new elegieson the hundred-times-corrected pages of the roots.
dedicated to my aunt V. Dumi Filk My mother has a cloud, sister. It comes every day to the sky of water spilled from a bucket over the polished cement surface that surrounds…
A breeze blows, and shakes the leaf, / Rocks a wave across the sea.
If you did not know that He is watching you, If you were not certain of the breathing of the stars Behind the great clouds, If you did not hear His waiting smile Behind…
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