Songs of T. 4 et 5
4. Voice of the abyss in anger
Came the moment when his voice came, from the palpitating orbs, came from planets. But, I don't know, it seemed like a spine of light where heaps of beings on the mountain - shadows pressed together- cut and torn the space and made a splice. Voices of bulls, of powers, voices of branches in the night, fires in plains, all that carried away what had remained.
Of this kind of sound which was neither noise nor silence, scratches done with intensity
in an incompressible fucking sky, a storm which released all its violence,
a terror.
And precisely there, in this fountain, this indecent cascade,
precisely it was what protested with all its fists, just there,
and it measured itself how much
vulnerable it really was, in the fine blade of the bond which dug within us,
and cut deeply in the world as well as in others
How fragile was the voice which had agreed to build a passage in the universe,
how pale it was, this breath of pure exchange!
5. Deer.
I'm singing the rain in my open forest, this face of a roe-deer, and a red sphere on its temples, and again water gets up and up on the soaked ground in the village. I'm walking like He who shall come later. I'm trying to think of his shade as I'd do of powerful sides of a beast, of raised chest in sorrow, and of hope this voice is giving birth to.
tender piece of cosmic space
rolled up in black under its sadness
I'm proud and tired but I don't slacken
walking with my rage and travelling
a little miserable
seeking what?
I'm speaking about a fire in the storm, and of a roe-deer which, in the center of the waters, makes its destiny
Commentaires