Status Updates From Selected Poems, 1940-1979

(how the moon's waters rippled over the stone steps three
flights above the sea...)

A fleet of stars has dropped anchor in the depths of my soul

In these all-white courtyards where the south wind blows
Whistling through vaulted arcades, tell me, is it the mad pomegranate tree
That leaps in the light, scattering its fruitful laughter
With windy wilfulness and whispering, tell me, is it the mad pomegranate tree
That quivers with foliage newly born at dawn
Raising high its colours in a shiver of triumph?

Unguarded night was taken by memories