this valley as good as any in the softly carved
hollow of its trough-like form holds in its folds
some secret that disperses to nothing before

the plain in the flat land sight flees further
until it breaks on the far horizon in winter valleys
there's even more snow blocking the way if only

the slip slope sunning itself in morning light in big
cities the gullies are steeper like in manhattan
fifth avenue and like the brooklyn bridge and its

pillars which we saw close up you and I in the
depths of the one body in cracks in sofas and where
bedclothes are lying this too is a valley where here

the book is folded in the heart's rhythm on a pristine
hospital chart I have no idea myself what the cool
reason is something's always drawn me down into the ravine

translated by Catherine Hales