Deep down, the night has massed again
My darling smiles in her wonted place
My darling who doesn’t come by day
Appears at night by the pool.

The moonlight a sash for her waist
The heavens her secret veil
The stars roses in her hand.

translated by Bernard Lewis

I shut my eyes tight:
you are there in the dark,
lying on your back in the darkness,
your forehead and wrists are a golden triangle in the dark.

My darling, you are inside my eyelids that are closed,
there are songs inside my closed eyelids.
Now everything starts with you in there.
Now, nothing remains there that was mine before you
and nothing that doesn’t belong to you.

translated by Talat S. Halman

In the 1940s I had a glorious time in Hollywood because I was fired almost at once from the project I was working on and they had to continue to pay me. That was in my contract. For six months they had to pay me $250 a week. This was in 1943, when $250 was equivalent to about $1,000 now, I would guess. They had to pay me whether I had an assignment or not.

First they put me on Marriage Is a Private Affair for Lana Turner. Well, they expressed great delight with my dialogue, and I think it was good. But they said, “You give Miss Turner too many multisyllable words!” So I said, “Well some words do contain more than one syllable!” And Pandro Berman, who loved me very much–Lana Turner just happened to be his girlfriend at the time–he said to me, “Tennessee, Lana can tackle…

he sits there staring
at the question as if it
might answer itself

just remember
it works like this
if they don’t get you first
they get you second

a person is always
what they do
their actions define
their character
words are empty
unless validated by action
it’s easy to quote poetry
or political philosophy
but unless you live a life
that reflects those words
you are false
a mask hiding your real self
the hardest thing in life
is to live your words
otherwise
why even speak
without the appropriate action
it’s just air

the cat creeps slowly
across the length of the bed
looks for safe haven
to rest his tired body
sighs before closing his eyes

love is a total waste of time
you and I know that

but there’s something about its madness
that opens the eyes and clears the mind

translated by David Young

I send my heart out
wrapped in tissue paper
a bow on top
the emotions spring forth
a river overflowing
these feelings I have
when your image appears
on the street before me
the way your eyes shine
when you tell an amusing story
the tilt of your head
when in conversation
your smile when you dance
your bold assertions
leave me without air
to twist and turn
unable to express
what must remain unspoken
and thus reduced to words
my inner character exposed
in what I write
in what I do
but never in what I say
I speak through fictional poses
to the one who exists
in my mind
hoping somehow you’ll hear
the song in my heart

it’s like walking underwater
one is tired
even before one begins
but there is this image
just out of reach
that sustains me
and though for every two
I lose one
I keep moving
like a lens
that keeps focusing
I am drawn forward
your face before me
the light in your eyes
a promise unspoken
hope realized