Poem

Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on his breast…

Почему я пишу сегодня?Красота этих страшных лиц людей незначительных побуждает меня:негритянских женщин…

По дороге в инфекционную больницу под этим океаном голубизны пестрящим облаками гонимыми с северо-востока — холодный ветер. По сторонам дороги —…

A day on the boulevards chosen out of ten years of student poverty! One best day out of ten good ones. Berket in high spirits--"Ha, oranges! Let's have one!" And he made to snatch an orange from the vender's cart.Now so clever was the deception, so nicely timed…

A middle-northern March, now as always-- gusts from the south broken against cold winds-- but from under, as if a slow hand lifted a tide, it moves--not into April--into a second March,…

Go to sleep--though of course you will not-- to tideless waves thundering slantwise against strong embankments, rattle and swish of spray dashed thirty feet high, caught by the lake wind,…

IMen with picked voices chant the names of cities in a huge gallery: promises that pull through descending stairways to a deep rumbling.…