(September 30, 1927 / New York / United States)

One

For a long time sleep entered the same gate
into me and into her,
the same gate joy entered,
fear,
taste, smell, the softness of the cherries.
My heaviness was her heaviness,
my nails, her nails,
my air, her air.
The two of us dreamed the same dream,
we were one:
a woman who went through the streets
alone,
strolling, or by train, by bus.

Translation from Romanian by Claudia Serea

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Comments (1)

This is a beautiful poem, as most of Merwin's are.