Will this beautiful Biala be mine one day?
Even though she'd been sick a long time, it is sad that Bernadette has died. The last time I saw her, Annabel & I drove up to her place in upstate New York. We sang our version of her "Essay" to the tune of "Streets of Laredo," her moving closer & closer in delight. I recently translated a poem of hers ("Carlton Fisk Is My Ideal") into Norwegian. Her wonderful Midwinter Day.
An image of love allows what I can't say,
Sun's lost in the window and love is below
Love is the same and does not keep that name
I keep that name and I am not the same