Lost in thought,
you came to watch me.
I'm like an olive branch - your face.
Houses are on fire in the sun.
The bridge is pasted together stone by stone
and the sky keeps gnawing.
The hands are seizing me.
I hear the motion of soft nibs.
Smoke rises out of me.
I evaporate into you, tasting your
fruit, passer-by.
The sheep scratches herself on the rock,
the windows are wiped in a dream.
Sweet rehearsing pours over me.
I'm folding your door latches.
I shuck the black, silky
festive hall of your warm breath,
the impermanence of your life.

Translation: Charles Simic