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."
iako je davala sve od sebe jureći niz polja. Kad ne bi stigla na vrijeme do kuće, pjesma bi samo projurila kroz nju, neuhvaćena. Tada bi se nastavila kotrljati niz polja tražeći, kako Ruth kaže, "nekog drugog pjesnika". A ponekad bi