Don’t touch an opal.

Just look in awe upon it:

it is a tear,

shed by the angel,

when he knew

that he had not committed even one

of many splendid mortal sins.


A red butterfly

is flying in the silken air

and – poppy after poppy – lights the poppies.

When the field is all aflame

It’s frightened; and it flies

and hides in the sun’s dark heart.


Луната е кръгла като колело.

Защо няма две луни –


да си направя колело

и да замина някъде далеч, далеч,




ще има само една луна?