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Spring Snow (In the Next Galaxy, Copper Canyon Press, 2002)
Rain of remembering;
late snow turning to rain.
Then in the cold house,
alone in bed,
the soft stutter on the roof,
random phrases; your voice,
only your voice. How can
it be that voice that touched
And what you said,
if only I could hear it again
in its intensity.
in the moment of waking,
the delicate mold and odors
of the breaking apart of winter,
in the soft snow that comes
between the past and the chill
distillation, the whisper of air
split between the perfume
of melting crystals; the clasp
and letting go.
“Yes–the springtimes needed you.
Often a star was waiting for you to notice it.
A wave rolled toward you out of the distant past,
or as you walked under an open window,
a violin yielded itself to your hearing.
All this was mission.
But could you accomplish it?
Weren’t you always distracted by expectation,
as if every event announced a beloved?”
from Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke,
translated by Stephen Mitchell
“Highway” by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
A despondent highway is stretched,
its eyes set on the far horizon
On the cold dirt of its bosom,
its grayish beauty spread
As if some saddened woman
in her lonely abode, lost in thought.
In contemplation of union with her Beloved
every pore sore, limbs limp with exhaustion.