A Writer's Ruminations

"I go,
dreaming of those buried
in orchards and vineyards,
and I remember those I love,
those few.
When the sea rages my blood
and the wind kisses my love’s hair,
I remember my mother,
and I weave in memory for her
a mat of straw
where she can sit and weep."

— Adonis, from “Elegy for the Time at Hand” (translated by Samuel Hazo)