Translated by Bela Gligorova
Suspended at the gate
A garland made of child’s tears
Defies the law of gravity
Within the white wreath
Tinkles the white bell
White horses in feathered white dreams
Dungeons too come in a shape:
White star whitely bright
With a white rose for a tail
White strokes
On white silk, from the first night
To the last white dawn
A white bed of roses planted in the heart:
Loneliness impedes love
Fullness admonishes anger
White-washed walls
In them, lightness is confound as a victim
A burning swallowed amidst a dry throat
And here death adorned a white hue
And loved to smolder
Red rose petals.