You're Rowing By Wordlight

In The Air, There Your Root Remains, There, In The Air

How You Die Out In Me: Down To The Last Worn-out Knot Of Breath You're There, With A Splinter Of Life.

Tall Poplars--human Beings Of This Earth!

There's Nothing In The World For Which A Poet Will Give Up Writing, Not Even He Is A Jew And The Language Of His Poems Is German.

The Two Heart-grey Puddles: Two Mouthsfull Of Silence.