To my wife TATIANA
Among the needles the bird chirps: pink, pink, pink...
It is its colour, and it is the link
Between its being and escaping beam.
Do you prefer to say, it is my dream?
I argue not, but if under this tree
You’ll come without me once, I’m sure, you’ll see
This chirping bird: pink, pink... When you’ll be sole
You’ll see it as you have not seen my soul.
25.08.1998.