
Mark Strand
Poor North
It is cold, the snow is deep,
the wind beats around in its cage of trees,
clouds have the look of rags torn and soiled with use, […]
It is cold, the snow is deep,
the wind beats around in its cage of trees,
clouds have the look of rags torn and soiled with use, […]
Non c’è bisogno di essere una stanza ,
non c’è bisogno di essere una casa,
per sentirsi infestati dai fantasmi.[…]
Fish in the unruffled lakes
Their swarming colours wear,
Swans in the winter air […]
Now it is Loneliness who comes at night
Instead of Sleep, to sit beside my bed.
Like a tired child I lie and wait her tread, […]
There is no cure for ageing
Death may be incurable, but growing old is not an illness.
And some are better at it than others. ….The secret? […]
When you see them
tell them I am still here,
that I stand on one leg while the other one dreams, […]
Siedo in una delle bettole
della Cinquantaduesima strada
incerto e spaventato […]
Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age
The child is grown, and puts away childish things.
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies. […]