17.01.1962 - 16.03.2009 [*]
In Alaska, he had the freedom and the opportunity to live on his own terms and be recognized for his own accomplishments. Here he was not a literary figure forever defined by the lives of his parents. But he was their son and his death will generate headlines around the world.

O love, how did you get here?
O embryo
Remembering, even in sleep,
Your crossed position.
The blood blooms clean
In you, ruby.
The pain
You wake to is not yours.
Love, love, I have hung our cave with roses.
With soft rugs--
The last of Victoriana.
Let the stars
Plummet to their dark address,
Let the mercuric
Atoms that cripple drip
Into the terrible well,
You are the one
Solid the spaces lean on, envious.
You are the baby in the barn.

Ma ktoś jakiś sensowny przekład tego wiersza?
Herbertowy, Hartwigowy?
Bo google chyba nie.
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