The World Is Alive And

Then He Went Out Without Touching Anything And Put His Arm Around Ingeborg, And Like That, With Their Arms Around Each Other, They Returned To The Village While The Whole Past Of The Universe Fell On Their Heads.

That's A Pretty Story,' Said Afanasievna As She Let Go Of Ansky's Genitals. 'a Pity I'm Too Old And Have Seen To Much To Believe It.' It Has Nothing To Do With Belief,' Said Ansky, 'it Has To Do With Understanding, And Then Changing.

The American Mirror, Said The Voice, The Sad American Mirror Of Wealth And Poverty And Constant Useless Metamorphosis, The Mirror That Sails And Whose Sails Are Pain.

For A Moment The Two Of Them Looked At Each Other, Wordless, As If They Were Asleep And Their Dreams Had Converged On Common Ground, A Place Where Sound Was Alien.

There Is A Time For Reciting Poems And A Time For Fists.