… All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

… And suddenly a hare ran across the road
one of us pointed to it with his hand.
That was along ago. Today neither of them is alive.
Not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.
O my love, where are they, where are they going?
The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.
I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.

Über allen Gipfeln ist Ruh,
In allen Wipfeln spürest du kaum einen Hauch;
Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde.
Warte nur, balde ruhest du auch.

… So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

To make a prairie
it takes a clover and one bee,
one clover, and a bee,
and revery.
The revery alone will do
if bees are few.

… Overwinteren doen ze op een bank
onder de sneeuw
als het lente wordt laten ze zich vollopen
om de laag beschaving van hun huid te krabben
ze hangen rond in bushokjes
en soms naakt in een meer …

Ensomme skip på havets myrer
bøyer nakken,
kroker ryggen som myrullsankere
Ensomme skip på havets myrer
under skyers myrullskjorter,
svanevinger,
snøhvit.

Niemand knetet uns wieder aus Erde und Lehm,
niemand bespricht unseren Staub.
Niemand.
Gelobt seist du, Niemand.
Dir zulieb wollen
wir blühn.
Dir
entgegen….

They sleep on the ocean floor like humming-tops

whose music is the mother-of-pearl octave of the rainbow,

harmonious shells that whisper forever in our ears,
the world that you inhabit has not yet been created.

… Så lenge eg veit du vil kome iblant
som no over knastrande grus
og smile glad når du ser meg stå her,
skal eg ha ein heim i mitt hus.

Det regnar över staden,
det regnar tyst och sakta på gatans tysta hus.
Från mjukt beslöjad himmel igenom
skymningen silar ett milt och dämpat ljus.
O, denna veka, stilla vårkvällsmelankoli
och regnets sakta sus.
Mitt hjärta gråter tyst.