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Anne Pennington

Until her last breath she enlarges
Her Oxford house
Built in Slavonic
Vowels and consonants

She polishes the corner-stones
Until their Anglo-Saxon shine
Begins to sing

Her death is like a short breath-stop
Under the distant limetrees of her friends

Trans. by Peter Jay, Anthony Rudolf, and Daniel Weissbort

Anonymous submission.

Vasko Popa

Read poems about / on: house, death, friend

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8/30/2008 12:55:55 AM. You Are Here: Anne Pennington by Vasko Popa