Armenian Papers [antikvár]

The Pines at Son Beltran If marriage is separation "To meet again," where is that country? The high pines bend Seaward in slow acknowledgment of mountain wind. Clouds coast over blurred blue water, Away, whiteness heavy with gold. At such a table should marriage be broken— The square stone set with blue figs, The young bride hiding among red trunks, Running (a little), with naked legs. Sea-mirrored clouds are heavy with our loss. The pines incline, for another reason, Toward water that is pulled blue silk Ermine-edged, wrinkled by mountain wind. She has run past the trees into a field of rushes Or some other sea-grass; but she is gone. Who waits for her? The stone is bare. The pines are fixed in a seaward posture. Marriage is separation, and we Who are ourselves most when we kiss Practice for that lonely touching In voyages on the sheeted sea Toward unknown islands that must be found, Mapped, and redeemed. The laden clouds Glide to romance and rain; but the virgin bride Will bear a child whose name is love, and die. (And the white thighs gone in the sand and eel-grass! The beauty was there; we can ask no more.) "But where shall we meet again?" On the far Face of the moon at the earth's eclipse; Or never; or some afternoon in Budapest; Or, at a square stone table set With blue imaginary figs And a view of the water, under these bending trees.