The Shadow Past Is Shaped

History Is The Gradual Instant

When You Are Alone - At Sea, In The Polar Dark - An Absence Can Keep You Alive. The One You Love Maintains Your Mind. But When She's Merely Across The City, This Is An Absence That Eats You To The Bone.

Hold A Book In Your Hand And You're A Pilgrim At The Gates Of A New City.

Once I Was Lost In A Forest. I Was So Afraid. My Blood Pounded In My Chest And I Knew My Heart's Strength Would Soon Be Exhausted. I Saved Myself Without Thinking. I Grasped The Two Syllables Closest To Me, And Replaced My Heartbeat With Your Name.

Translation Is A Kind Of Transubstantiation; One Poem Becomes Another. You Can Choose Your Philosophy Of Translation Just As You Choose How To Live: The Free Adaptation That Sacrifices Detail To Meaning, The Strict Crib That Sacrifices Meaning To Exactitude. The Poet Moves From Life To Language, The Translator Moves From Language To Life; Both, Like The Immigrant, Try To Identify The Invisible, What's Between The Lines, The Mysterious Implications.