THE TIME OF THE SAND-CLOCK

(Translated by Anthony Weir and poet)

On the sands of time

fossils march:

their last parade.

Salute from the podium.

Jaws - triumphant - creak

as they grind old myths

with gritty teeth.

Crows have always fed on flesh,

and illusions destroy empires of illusion.

The sighing sand-clock has been turned afresh.

THE NYMPH OF THE POOL OF TEARS

(Translated by Anthony Weir and poet)

I am the Nymph of the Pool of Tears

Where you wash out your shame each night

And you trouble and stain my water

And you wait

And I wait

Until the swans hunch their heads in their shoulders

And a stillness settles on the pool

And you talk

And you sleep

And I, the Nymph of your sleep

Begin to renew

Your sodden body

With my tears.