Reading: The second Madrigal by Anna Swir
Today my eye fell on Polish poet Anna Swir (Świrszczyńska) (1909-1984). I read the translation by Czeslaw Milosz: The Second Madrigal A night of love exquisite as a concert from old Venice played on exquisite instruments. Healthy as a buttock of a little angel. Wise as an anthill. Garish as air blown into a trumpet. Abundant ...