Il est le seul à mener vers l’Ether
Le sillon creusé au pays, dès le foyer.
A les voir s’arc-bouter aux cornes du fer,
Il semble coulé en bronze, les bœufs en rocher.
Le blé, le maïs, le seigle, l’orge, le millet
Aucune graine ne court le risque de se détruire.
La lame de la charrue, quand retournée,
S’attarde un peu sous le soleil pour roussir.
de atâtea ori ar fi trebuit să vorbim
astăzi plutesc în tăcerea aceasta ca un galion
cu echipajul decimat de holeră.
nu vreau pânze noi nici o altă busolă mai degrabă aruncă-mă-n aer
sparge ferestrele
am nevoie de tine ca de singura piele în care mai pot să-mi întorc
dimineaţa spre nord.
I start putting together colorful pieces of glass, a winding mosaic
reminding me of gaudi
he never saw it but you know lately
he used to lift his glasses up on his nose
with the hand holding a pencil
and he would tell me there’s still time for a walk
let’s have something to eat first
I still wear the clothing from another life
used, full of stars
tips of light grow in pockets
the way you know me
lost in old bookstores
breathing in catalogs, sketches, engravings
with scattered memories
counting the bridges across Seine
transient boats
the clouds lay in bema
starved
they devour me
on this ineffable highway
in me
incendiary I wander
Comentarii aleatorii