A roomful of empty shoes, yet
from all of them she rises, resurrecting in
her many forms: the one and only, vanished,

who now comes forth again, high-spirited
and smiling, through the darkness of the Lions' Gate -
a piercing sun behind. She is

a shadow resting under flowers, beneath the grass
and I limp like an ape in her late shoes,
in her ancient coat in the cold breeze

chasing, as ever, life's dream. I will
get to faraway places, leave your tracks
there, heels dug in the sand.

Translation: John Irons