Sometimes, the heart yearns, For mangoes where there are apples,, For orchids where there are tulips, For warmth, where it is cold, For mountainous islands, Where there is flatland.

Behold the bladed poem Tensile and razor-sharp Cold and glinting silver In the light or dark. See how the blackbird Of a hilt flies Bedecked with pearls On the firm mobile...

The fickle-minded spirits and fairies have fled the old trees and groves, Dark caves and mounds in the shadows, mossy rocks and whispering streams. The gnarled balete and the blackbird Have lost their intriguing power.