|From the book The Wild Rose|
|Legends and Fantasies|
(1976 - 1978)
|I often dream of death offering|
to do something for me. And when,
not understanding, I say “No!”,
A double staircase
leads her to where the light is from,
and I feel strange and empty...
I think there is not a cursed place
near Death where a child, an old woman
and a widower, lose their way
but there is memory, memory.
Besides the air there is of the shortest journeys
which fall like water –
So, not paying any attention to her,
and my hand goes away
into the simple water of a light face.