Aspen tree, your leaves glance white into the dark. - Paul Celan

We stand by the window embracing, and people look up from the street:
it is time they knew!
It is time the stone made an effort to flower,
time unrest had a beating heart.
It is time it were time. It is time.

You opened your eyes -I saw my darkness live. I see through it down to the bed; there too it is mine and lives.

A little stallion gallops across the leafing fingers-
Black the gate leaps open, I sing;
How did we live here?