Upon A Song Of Maria Tanase Poem by RIC BASTASA

the time for fame is over, and if we start owning everything
we have denied written over here spread like linen on fields of gray
sand, what have i got? what have you got to be ashamed of, there is
nothing probable, after all, we have nothing to lose, some things
i need, something i must decide to forget,

Nothing. probably, NOTHING,


I HAVE nothing to be afraid of finally,
for i am fine,
into the restlessness of my anonymity.