What will they think of my hat,
the Polish, in a hundred years?
What will they say about my poetry
who never touched my blood?
How do we measure the foam
that slips from the beer?
What does a fly do, imprisoned
in one of Petrarch’s sonnets?
What will they think of my hat,
the Polish, in a hundred years?
What will they say about my poetry
who never touched my blood?
How do we measure the foam
that slips from the beer?
What does a fly do, imprisoned
in one of Petrarch’s sonnets?