The storm had golden hair flecked with black
and moaned in a monotone, like a simple woman
giving birth to a future soldier, or a tyrant.
Vast clouds, multi-storied ships
surrounded us, and lightning's scarlet strands
The highway became the Red Sea.
We moved through the storm like a sheer valley. You drove; I lookedat you with love.
By adam zagajewski; Translated from the Polish by Clare Cavanagh