How can you bear to look at the Neva? How can you bear to cross the bridges?. Not in vain am I known as the grieving one Since the time you appeared to me. The black angels' wings are sharp,...
Here is my gift, not roses on your grave, not sticks of burning incense. You lived aloof, maintaining to the end your magnificent disdain. You drank wine, and told the wittiest jokes,...
The boy there, on the bagpipes playing, The girl, who weaves herself a wreath, Two forest paths that cross while straying, The fire in the fields beneath - I see it all. I witness it and stow...