| From the book The Beginning of a Book |  |
Lullaby
Like a mountain dove in cleft stone
Like a city swallow under the eaves –
Which spend all day bustling, flying
Then fall into a slumber
So profound,
It’s as if they were not yet born –
So you too, my heart,
Nestling in hurt offense
Sated, warm, comforted
Sleep... slumber...
Don’t listen to anyone:
Talk, go on then, talk,
Talk, you don’t know anything:
If you knew, you’d be silent,
As I am, as I have been since
The great Flood,
Since Noah’s vineyard.
Larissa Volokhonsky and Emily Grosholz | |
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