Men at Forty

But these maneuverings to avoid The touching of hands, These shifts to keep the eyes employed On objects more or less neutral (As honor, for time being, commands) Will hardly prevent their downfall. Stronger medicines are…

Thirty today, I The trees flare briefly The candles upon a cake As the sun went down the sky,

Les morts C’est sous terre; Ça n’en sort Guère. UE Our diaries squatted, toad-like, On dark closet ledges.

We have climbed the mountain. There's nothing more to do. It is terrible to come down To the valley Where, amidst many flowers, One thinks of snow

We shall not ever meet them bearded in Nor sunning themselves among the bald of hell; If anywhere, in the deserted schoolyard at twilight, forming a ring, perhaps, or joining

Now comes the evening of the mind. Here are the fireflies twitching in the blood; Here is the shadow moving down the Where you sit reading by the garden wall.

Me moriré en Paris con aguacero ... I will die in Miami in the sun, On a day when the sun is very bright, A day like the days I remember, a day like other days

Jane looks down at her organdy As if it somehow were the thing disgraced, For being there, on the floor, in the dirt, And she catches it up about her waist,