....What potion should I give the night so she’ll always wonder?
....Her pounding heart’s a rider galloping from the burning wood.

....Maybe my pharmacist is awake the next street over?
....In a crucible of  bone, snake tears mixed with herbs.

....Should I hurry? Call the doctor? A heart like hers is rare.
....And to tell the truth, if it shattered, what would I do?

....--Abraham Sutzkever (trans by Zackary Sholem Berger)

[via poetryfoundation.org]

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