TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY PATRICK WILLIAMSON
1
EVERY TREE SEEKS THE SKY
Who else knows the wind so well
To bear witness to its birth
I don’t know where its wings are hiding
The trees look – and keep silent – at
Their leaves that flirt
At the breath of spans and southerly winds
The roots test the soil
The shoot floats away
As light as release
At the foot of a seqouia
All eyes covet the top
The sky will be hope
As long as trees woo the light
I don’t know much about the skies
Subjugating them to the weather’s moods
Every marvel makes my disarray worse
For man it all begins here
Who knows if everything ends here?
2
Our straying stakes out
the paths of centuries
and the lights of dawn
not illumined the sources
an intensity of tone
indwells the vanities
that always slope off
when it’s time to charge
the gates of destiny
open to the bold
here is the offering of our sweat
of our consecrated blood
of our red blood of rebirth
let your horses fly away
to the wild shores
where heaven and earth commune
3
On the empty chair
There’s nothing left but your cry
The bruising of the soul
Your fallen flesh
Delights the powers of death
And their sardonic laughter
Lacerates the atmosphere
Torture, humour of tyranny
4
COMPANION OF THE GODS
The soul crumples in the snow of the Tropics
Mountain high trestle of mystery high
I attest here: the mountain is the companion of the gods
I hail the cloud-boots a forager throws away
I hail the silver sailboats heading out to sea
I’d know how to make the trip as a stowaway
What’s a swim in the Nereids’ bath worth
Crystal-shattered light on the needle tip
Such a visit from the Paraclete
An abyss of vertigo at the zenith of dreams
Heavens that hide beneath the veils of clouds
Backbone rightened by the rigour of the slope,
One only climbs the mountain devoutly
Also, read Silence by Mikica Pindzo translated from the Italian by Brenda Porster, and published in The Antonym:
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