If Love Wants You; If You've Been

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.

History And Memory Share Events; That Is, They Share Time And Space. Every Moment Is Two Moments.

When You Put A Tremendous Amount Of Love Into Your Work, As In Any Relationship, You Can't Know - You Can Only Hope - That What You're Offering Will In Some Way Be Received. You Shape Your Love To Artistic Demands, To The Rigors Of Your Genre. But Still, It's A Labor Of Love, And It's The Nature Of Love That You Must Give It Freely.

When A Man Dies, His Secrets Bond Like Crystals, Like Frost On A Window. His Last Breath Obscures The Glass.

The Dead Leave Us Starving With Mouths Full Of Love.” From “memoriam