Again and again

When I look at this man

He hasn’t been drinking and

He laughs as he used to

I think: things are getting better.

Spring is coming, good times are coming

The times that have gone

Have come again

Love is beginning again, soon

Things will be as they were.

Again and again

When I have been speaking to him

He has eaten and he does not go away

He talks to me, nor

Does he have his hat on

I think: it will be good

The ordinary time has passed—

You can talk to a person, he listens

Love is beginning again, soon

Things will be as they were.

The rain

Can’t go back up

When the wound

No longer hurts

The scar does.

TERCETS ON LOVE—THE LOVERS

See how those cranes fly arcing through the sky!

The clouds they have for company on their way

Were there already when they had to fly

From one life to another far away.

Together at the selfsame height and pace

It seems an almost casual display.

That crane and cloud just chance to share the space

Of the wide skies through which they pass so briefly

So neither one may linger in this place

And all they see is one another slightly

Rocking on the wind in loose accord

Who now in flight lie side by side so lightly

The wind may carry them off into the void.

If they remain themselves, and hold on tight

They can be touched by nothing untoward

It doesn’t matter if they’re driven out

Threatened by gunshots or by stormy weather.

Indifferent to the sun and moon’s pale light

They journey on, besotted with each other.

What are you fleeing from?

—The world.

—Where to?

—Wherever.

You ask how long now have they been together?

Not long.

—And when they’ll part?

—Oh, soon enough.

So love appears secure to those who love.

SPRING

1

Spring is coming.

Between the sexes the game resumes

The lovers find their way to one another.

The beloved’s gently enclosing hand

Shocks the girl’s breast cold.

Her glance seduces him.

2

In a new light

The landscape appears to the lovers in spring.

The first flocks of birds are sighted

Very high.

The air is already warm.

The days are becoming long and the meadows

Keep their brightness late.

3

The growth of the trees and grasses in spring

Is measureless.

Fruitful unceasingly

Is the forest, are the meadows, the fields.

And the earth gives birth to the new

Without heed.

THE FIRST SONNET

When we were first divided into two

And one of our beds stood here and one stood there

We picked an inconspicuous word to bear

The sense we gave it: I am touching you.

The pleasure of such speaking may seem paltry

For touch itself is indispensable

But we at least kept “it” inviolable

And saved for later, like a surety.

Stayed ours, and yet removed from you and me

Could not be used yet had not ceased to be