Against the burly air I strode, Crying the miracles of God.

When I was reading a book in a bookstore in 1992, I came across the words of a foreign critic: "O. Paz's poetry starts from the end of P. Neruda's poetry."

As lonely I stand / As an old shaman s tomb that all men avoid – / Such is the truth, and truth leaves my soul void…

Workmen lift high / The beams of the roof, / Hymenaeus!

Wind disperses the foliage. The dimness of old bulbs in these / sorry quarters, whose motto’s “The mirror will please,”

Marbles, buttons, thimbles, dice, / pins, stamps, and glass beads: / tales of time.

STATELY, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.

And then went down to the ship, / Set keel to breakers, forth on the godly sea, and

In the river lie soaked pita bread, colouring material, mud and trash / As I look at the river

To read Eliot, for me, is to feel the presence of the abyss;

The Moose / From narrow provinces / of fish and bread and tea, / home of the long tides

As you set out for Ithaka / hope the voyage is a long one, / full of adventure, full of discovery.

When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter, / And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

here’s a bluebird in my heart that / wants to get out

What had you been thinking about, the face studiously bloodied, heaven blotted region

Seven free-verse hymns with a refrain, each hymn describing a new stage of Creation, of Man, of Day....

In poetry, content and form are essentially the same things. They are interwoven in the realm of imagination.

The night isn’t dark; the world is dark. Stay with me a little longer.

No rain the whole summer, This is the first rain of the autumn, Rain outside the window

I walk through the long schoolroom questioning; A kind old nun in a white hood replies;

How to tell it all? Referring to what chronicles?

He saw her from the bottom of the stairs
Before she saw him. She was starting down,

There was a country where they were all thieves.

​Compared to darkness, our eyes have become accustomed to light, and if we are exposed to an excessive amount of light, we may even start perceiving darkness itself as 'light.'

Teucer: . . . in sea-girt Cyprus, where it was decreed