When I sink to bed the sea lies still downstairs
and the sun is as always ahead.

I'm fixing myself, a detail cut out
of dark water. And later I'll be by the boats,

sails light as uplifted voices and almost,
among the laughter of gulls, light-hearted.

Yet in this ring of his I stand slanted
at a date. And I see how, that far off,

he's rising with another sun. Slapdash. Again.
He called me Flower. Then Spring, Sexy, Sweetness,

Sweetest, Sweet, but lately more and more
RatherNot, NoLater, Please.

Translation: 2006, Antony Dunn