I

Απαλά
σαν ζεστή ανάσα
σε παγωμένο καθρέφτη

ή σαν ψίθυρος
σε γυμνά πόδια

φορώντας μόνο λευκά

ξεγλίστρησε

υποκύπτοντας στον πειρασμό
πριν…

“Will there be time to make myself a mask when I emerge from the shadows?” is a question Alejandra Pizarnik asks herself in “The Green Table,” a poem of fragments, queries, and laments in which…

Two stations after Dresden an elderly gentleman got into our compartment, passed the time of day civilly and then, looking up, expressly nodded to me as if I were an old acquaintance. At first I couldn’t…