Let’s dance a tango, darling,
Hands upon my back.
First one step, and then another —
The music pulls like that.
Eyes to eyes and hand in hand,
Hold me closer, tighter.
Let’s dance the tango lightly —
Calmer now, and lighter!
Heel just brushes toe,
Keep the spine upright!
Your breathing at my temple,
And one shared rhythm.
Again a sudden turn,
A jerk toward one another.
Excitement in the eyes, a stubborn mouth,
A hand across my shoulder.
You fling me like a spinning top,
And catch me in your arms;
A shiver runs through me like current,
The dress whispers and rustles.
And in the tango rhythm pain dissolves,
As in a kiss it melts.
Come dance with me, my darling,
Come dance with me.
* * *
For so many years I feared calm,
Yet here I am calm again — what is this?
Night, winter, the moon gives no light at all,
And I am alone again in the wide white world.
The black square of an empty window,
Silence: not a voice, not a word.
And in the blurred rhythm of day and night
Loneliness quietly gnaws my heart.
In darkness no loss can be found,
I wait for nothing, believe in nothing.
Only solid calm: no sleep, no thirst —
Life, alas, happens only once.
* * *
You are in a distant land,
On the cold earth there.
Do you hear how softly
Seraphim sing to you?
A white angel of love,
A black angel of parting —
These are my songs,
My only friend.
A scattering of plaintive notes —
For two, in unison —
Will come from me
Into your predawn dream.
The white angel of love
Will touch your heart.
That is how nightingales sing,
That is how a guitar sings.
The black angel of longing
Tears the soul like a string.
I write two lines;
He plays one.
If you hear
The seraphim sounding their trumpets,
Never and no one
Has sung for you like this!
* * *
A thundercloud came flying in
And poured itself as rain upon the earth,
And from the strain the pane began to sweat
In the open window frame.
I sat there pressing my palms so hard
They left a damp mark after them:
A trace of longing, wrongs, and incense,
A trace of victories never quite received.
In a vein, blue as a river on a map,
There beat some image, or perhaps a sound:
A nervous waiting at the start,
A finish line, the grip of strong arms.
Fingers clenched, my knees embraced,
I tried to decipher the sound,
Forgetting all, exhausted by regrets,
Unlearning how to listen, trust, and sleep.
I waited, eyelids closed by habit,
I tried to find a place of peace.
The rivers of my unshed tears
Poured from the heavens as one great river.
* * *
Sailors trouble the soul,
Lighthouses call them back to shore,
And the ship, so white, so white, is solemnly immense.
The ears are just a little blocked,
Tired of idling, tired of play,
Yet the bright face of the horizon keeps beckoning the captain on.
Garlands of black waves twist and curl,
Seagulls cry and laugh,
The clear-eyed captain brushes off one stingy tear.
Rum and gin are drunk in cabins,
Sad songs are sung.
How I long for the sea — where roads and fog begin.
* * *
An off-roader behind the fence —
Competition for a horse.
Only somehow it seems that soon
I’ll outrun them all.
I’ll simply step off-road,
Wherever my eyes may lead;
My sneakers will carry my feet away,
And the brakes will fail.
I’ll run beyond the edge of orbit,
So there, left out of the game,
Will be the battered off-roader
And the horse, forgotten for a while.
