Short Poems

Tell all my mourners
To mourn in red --
Cause there ain't no sense
In my bein' dead.

(co-written by Sharon Robinson)

Water opens without end
At the bow of the ship
Rising to descend
Away from it

Days become one
I am who I was

Vous êtes mort un soir à l'heure où le jour cesse.
Ce fut soudain. La douce et terrible paresse
En vous envahissant ne vous a pas vaincu.
Rien ne vous a prédit la torpeur et la tombe.
Vous eûtes le sommeil. Moi, je peine et je tombe,
Et la plus morte mort est d'avoir survécu.

Une fille nue nage dans la mer
Un homme barbu marche sur l'eau
Où est la merveille des merveilles
Le miracle annoncé plus haut ?

That which I learned from the Deity,-
that which through lifetime hath helped me,
Meekly and gratefully now, here I suspend in his shrine.

Nu løses Frosten af den milde Regn,
der staar i tætte Byger ind ad Fjorden.
En skumvaad Sønden læsker Land og Egn,
og Bonden sætter atter Plov i Jorden.

HOW many verses have I thrown
Into the fire because the one
Peculiar word, the wanted most,
Was irrecoverably lost!

They who take courage from their own defeat
Are victors too, no matter how much beat.

A MASK--a perpetual natural disguiser of herself,
Concealing her face, concealing her form,
Changes and transformations every hour, every moment,
Falling upon her even when she sleeps.