Poetry
Autumn 1961
The Infinite
From the Italian. That hill pushed off by itself was always dear to me and the hedges near it that cut away so much of the final horizon. When I […]
Poetry
Autumn 1961
Saturday Night in the Village
From the Italian. The day is ready to close; the girl takes the downward path homeward from the vineyard, and jumps from crevice to crevice like a goat, as […]