drawing by petersilie

Larissa Miller's
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Quench My Sadness

Quench my sadness.
At sunset and at dawn
the wind rocked the pines
on Nickola Mountain.

The pines creak a little
and the trunks sway.
Times that are light-bearing
will become a handful of ashes.

I speak and cry softly:
because whatever I say
everything is a complete failure
and banality.

Only in the beginning was the Word,
then there were only words.
Quench my sadness
and make me akin to the Word.

          1991

Translated by Richard McKane