We have climbed the mountain. There’s nothing more to do. It is terrible to come down To the valley Where, amidst many flowers,

It always comes, and when it comes… To will it is enough to bring them… The knack is this, to fasten and n… Their limbs are charmed; they cann… Desire is limbo: they’re unhappy t…

Lights are burning In quiet rooms Where lives go on Resembling ours. The quiet lives

This one was put in a jacket, This one was sent home, This one was given bread and meat But would eat none, And this one cried No No No No

Cities burn behind us; the lake gl… A tall loudspeaker is announcing p… Another, by the lake, the times of… Childhood, once vast with terrors… Is fading to a landscape deep with…

This poem is not addressed to you. You may come into it briefly, But no one will find you here, no… You will have changed before the p… Even while you sit there, unmovabl…

There is a gold light in certain o… That represents a diffusion of sun… It is like happiness, when we are… It comes from everywhere and nowhe… And the poor soldiers sprawled at…