A Lion Is Made Up Of The

Like A Bird With Broken Wing That Has Traveled Through Wind For Years . . . I Sleep And My Heart Stays Awake . . .

For Poetry There Exists Neither Large Countries Nor Small. Its Domain Is In The Heart Of All Men.

They Were Lovely, Your Eyes, But You Didn't Know Where To Look.

I Think The Swedish Academy Wished To Manifest Its Solidarity With The Living Spirit Of Greece Today.

Leaves Like Rusty Tin For The Desolate Mind That Has Seen The End- The Barest Glimmerings. Leaves Aswirl With Gulls Made Wild By Winter.