In the book of life to lie like a bookmark,
to crawl stubbornly along a single line.
Read sweet where itís written bitter,
insist on straight where thereís a turn.
In rust there is fire, water and rock,
in mourning ó trees, shrubbery, grass.
A man will flee faster than a deer
from judges, when truth is not there,
from leaders, when eyes are blind,
from the known and from the unknown.
Only an ember pressed to his burning lips
will become his language and his home.
- Regina Derieva
(tr. J. Kates in Corinthian Copper, Marick Press)