LANDSCAPE WITH WOMAN WALKING
BESIDE A RIVER

A warm day in a southern country.
Orange trees, jostled, give off their fragrance.


Flute music beneath the water,
a blossoming apple tree.

In the burning-glass of the rose garden,
a rowboat drifts.

                       You are gone,
                       and all the flowers of the world
                       are turning to lilies.

Profusion of lilies. Water lilies painted
on mauve velvet.

                      Too many desires.
                      We will meet again, and talk of red haw
                      and swamproot.

A night lit by comets, cobalt bells.
Cypresses/black flames licking the stars.

                                        In the broken time behind
                                       this house I do not own,
                                       real orchards are in bloom.

Rain grieves on the rooftops.
Rose trees are lifting their little hands.

In the depths of the night river,
the water bursts into flame.

                       That fording place on the river,
                       where the plovers cry,
                       when will your horse splash
                       through its clear water,
                       coming to meet me?

I see myself in a red mirror; you are with me.
Twenty years from now I will look in that mirror
and see us together.

                              Star flux in the highest darkness.
                              Leaves are falling from trees in Guatemala

Nothing will ever change.

　

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