*** How, and where, should my eye start? With the first sand grain I step? With the first sea wave I touch? Or let the eye dance around the seaside…
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*** At dusk, in the dress of dust, The day Blends with the magic of melting sun, A trivial Thursday becomes A springboard for love, Succumbs to astonishing ashes. I…
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*** I went for a walk-in-the-snow and thought about Marcel: His madeleine, of course, and the tea smell, His cork-lined bedroom, My Proust - the master of social distancing! Mademoiselles…
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*** There was no trace of humans Over the snowed-up beach, I thought of you, as I do often, And followed you inside this chiaroscuro noon. I screwed one eye…
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*** Crescent-shaped bread Can’t be cut open, Made into a sandwich, Be spread on, Nor eaten at any other time But morning, When still it’s warm And dangerously buttery, When…
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*** I don't go to bed before I write to you. I have to pile up my today's silences before they turn into a small poem. I sit down to…
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*** Я окрыла les yeux, и мне показалось, что я безнадежно счастлива (désespérément heureux). В тишине утра отчетливо было слышно, как капля дождя падала, как шипела, в твоих руках сигарета…
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*** But soon things changed. Before becoming urgent, the pain Has waited, And then, Restarted a promenade in modo russico. Men in top hats Stood in a circle, Whispering to…
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*** “What is your name?” “I don’t remember.” “And where do you live?” “How can I know it?" “From where would you possibly emerge?” "In the beginning, I remember, was…
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*** They sat next to each other on the piano bench. The night, without candles. They played ‘Le Sacre du printemps’, for four hands - The native - Stravinsky’s -…
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