Yannis Ritsos
In a tree, a bird leaves a small string of song, and later a second
—tying spring's apron around her waist—
its head turns slightly, looks attentively, remains contented
but all of a sudden dives into the blue, disappearing into its song.
Where are you looking? Do you still see it? Show me.
from Small Dedications (1960-1965) [Collected Poems Delta' -- pg 135]
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