The black slit lies in its copper cloud.
‘Quiet as a knife.’
His heart beats its heavy, sinking beats.
Straight into the shadowy blue channel through the pines.
Fall silently or remain hanging.
They stay just as they are, forgotten.
– from Alexander Ahndoril’s The Director, trans. Sarah Death, Portobello Books, London, 2008, line by line, pp. 132, 172, 181, 191, 196 & 203
