Rene Char - French poetry

Eldest House - Maison Doyenne

Between the year's curfew and the quiver of a tree at the
window.  You have interrupted your giving.  The water-flower of
the grass prowls around a face.  On the threshold of the night, your
illusion's perseverance welcomes in the forest.








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on

Transtromer

  Calling Home   Our phone call spilled out into the dark and glittered between the...