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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The Way barred, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Le sens clos by T. Wignesan Every man has to confront his own night If he wants to continue on his journey. But Death takes it upon itself to meet him At the hour and the place it chooses (The moment when sometimes this man’s most at peace Making him forget the profoundness of being at ease.) There’s this look which suddenly arrests him This wall against which he collides headlong. There’s this arrow-like fixedness focussing ahead Visible in his pupils. There’s this stiffness Of the nape through which the soul is reached. There’s this man’s expression of utter surrender Yet he takes the step into the impenetrable void. Yet this obscure hardness is an invitation To force the impenetrable door through dire anxiety. It being convenient to defer to terror The way one dons a wedding dress. As long as God Does not imbue with madness those who love Him He’s not loved as He would have wished. Just the way the Patriarchs the Prophets Train their sights towards this wine. And the face Gaping at the first to arrive on the road To take him back home. Someone fills it up Like one does a cup : this passer-by becomes Jacob Unable to control God in his veins, And the over-abundance frothing in his eyes. He who assails the invisible (perhaps you) Little does it matter if he’s petrified Or if his limbs flail in the emptiness. He equally Experiences the misery of such venerable persons Who mask their vacant selves with such gestures Their atrocious trances with such stillness. If every man must on his own open the door of his night That’s just so as to reveal what’s meant for all mankind. No Jacob will ever stop clasping at God Nor await Abraham’s Justice Nor keep silent under Isaac’s knife. Nor for the Adam in every one of us to provoke The echo of the void at the portals of paradise. (Jacob, O.C. t. II, p. 147) © T. Wignesan – Paris, October 19, 2014
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