And other times she wouldn't be fast enough, so she'd be running and running, and she wouldn't get to the house and the poem would barrel through her and she would miss it and she said it would continue on across the landscape, looking, as she put it "for another poet."
Corria, corria, corria e não conseguia chegar a casa e o poema passava por ela e perdia-o. Ela dizia que continuava através da paisagem, à procura, como ela disse, "de outro poeta." E havia alturas