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I once loved.

I thought I would be loved.

But I wasn't loved.

I wasn't loved for the only reason that matters-

It was not to be.

I unbuttoned my white gloves and stripped each off.

I set aside my gold-knobbed cane.

I picked up this pen...

And thought how many other men

Had smelled the rose in the bud vase

And lifted a fountain pen,

And lifted a mountain...

And put the shotgun in their mouth,

And noticed that their hunting dog was pointing.

Homage to Pessoa

Frederick Seidel

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translated from the Ukrainian written by
Halyna Kruk