DPF / Milosz

For the passing moment, from Bells in Winter.

from Encounter / by Czeslaw Milosz, translated by the author and Lillian Vallee

That was long ago. Today, neither of them is alive,
Not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.

O my love, where are they, where are they going
The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.

 

 

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