In the sweet, Atlantic Breathing of spring My curtain's like a butterfly, Huge, fluttering Like a Hindu widow To a pyre's golden blaze, Like a drowsy Naiad To past-window seas.
From Irina Gnedko, the model in this photo:
"This poem was originally titled "A curtain". Then she renamed it as " Window". To her, windows were a site of freedom. About the same year she wrote to her friend, another poet, that her souls was never inside her body, instead it was outside windows, "behind windows"."