I rode to meet you: dreams
swarmed around me
and the moon on my right side
followed me, burning.
I rode back: everything changed.
My soul in love was sad
and the moon on my left side
trailed me without hope.
To such endless impressions
poets give themsleves absolutely,
making omen of mere event,
until the world reflects
the deepest needs of the soul.
–Louise Glück, after Pushkin.
