This poem is taken from PN Review 142, Volume 28 Number 2, November - December 2001.
Two Poems (translated by Christopher Middleton)Exile
Gone back again, a nymph,
Into the red salt of autumn,
A chrysalis glittered
In the hot sud of smoke.
A town. A town still,
With its portraits of resin
It looks through its web,
Eater of ants and of stars,
Which, with honey for end,
Battles the iron moth pushing
Its ploughshare in the sky.
Fire tinkles in the kitchen.
The man gets a laugh from his doll.
A headlight probes into shadow
Shooing it off like a bum.
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