They Were Lovely, Your Eyes,

For Poetry There Exists Neither Large Countries Nor Small. Its Domain Is In The Heart Of All Men.

Leaves Like Rusty Tin For The Desolate Mind That Has Seen The End- The Barest Glimmerings. Leaves Aswirl With Gulls Made Wild By Winter.

I Think The Swedish Academy Wished To Manifest Its Solidarity With The Living Spirit Of Greece Today.

A Lion Is Made Up Of The Lambs He's Digested.

Like A Bird With Broken Wing That Has Traveled Through Wind For Years . . . I Sleep And My Heart Stays Awake . . .