and you watching the grass
are ignorant of the signs
of all eternity
No roots are possible
without death growing?
were never mine. Today I keep calling
and this strange voice
speaks of faces, rivers and paths.
—Always a return—
and rain is falling through my eyes.
The street never spoke of my presence
nor did the mornings remember my absence.
What is the name of the wind
that found me repeating another name?
What other thing would I have been
but this shadow
matter in which I travel—and I vanish—
You are darkening the night and the place of my shadow
is all that remains!
Tiger life over our lives
with which net will I capture you?
I love you, hostile bird.
For years and years and years
it was hard to wake up on this earth
marked by fear
while the dead and the eagles curled up
under the moon.
It has always been difficult to learn
of not finding eyes in the eyes
and agreeing that the bread and the word
were a long chill.
identity was un-drawing itself
among ancient voices.
Even you, beautiful and darkest death.
anoints my skin
washes my eyes.
My infinite straying
do you bring me?
that I don’t hear?
I hang out the dawn
and the hours don’t know it.
The boy who was my heart
lights other terrors.
Further away than lightening
Who spoke of calmness?
The great unknown!
will be my biggest shadow.
Maybe my eternally lost steps
will look for me in stray cities
and all over the earth
they’ll be afraid of finding me.
will sneak off.
—because there’s no night for the blind star
nor a memory that helps
without being awake under the moon—
saw the dignity of a dead person
passing with an ineffable face.
and I mark myself with poppies.
who in confusion
searches for his pain in me,
Night and I
will have to get together
for the party of the eclipse.
together in the broken mirror,
as if the same god
measured us in his nothingness.