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Small Song -from the Hungarian ofAttilaJozse£ head crushed between two boxcarsI 'm laughing, but being very quiet about it. I've got my pipe and my knife: I am quiet, and laughing like hell. All hail, Wind! Let my song fall in jigsaw fragments! Nobody is my friend except·the one who can say "I take pleasure in his misery." I am ofshadow and ofsun ofthe sun Returning always, And I laugh, silently. Undersea Fragment in Colons - Vicente AleixandreSwordfish , I know you are tired: tired out with the sharpness ofyour face: Exhausted with the impossibility ofever Piercing the shade: with feeling the tunnel-breathing streamline ofyour flesh Enter and depart depart spirit-level after level ofDeath Tamped flat, and laid Where there is no hillside grave. Take this as it settles, then: word That behind your incomparable weapon chokes and builds, Blocked and balanced in your sides Instinct with meridians: word: the x-mark ofcertain world-number~ Blood-brothering rising blade-headed To an element as basic as the water unraveling in layers from around you: Strata trapped and stitched By your face like tapestry thinning exploding The depth-imploded isinglass eye Into latitude west ofGreenwich and shocked into the sea-birds' winged sea tonnage ofshifting silence n~ Head-Deep in Strange Sounds: Free-Flight Improvisations from the unEnglish / 406 ...

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