The Parting from the Drowned Voice in Memory
The Parting from the Drowned Voice in Memory
I ask you only to see the aged child within me,
that luminous ghost carrying his spear melted in burnt wax,
with black carnations that bloom inverted toward death backward.
Seek the one who perished waking wrongly in my place
and rose up asleep in the dream of the one who lies standing
in the warm breath of the earth frozen by long summers.
He alone can still weep with eyes dried by heavy tears
through these motionless steps of the world drowned in blind light,
among the transparent roots and soft stones flowing like water.
At the border of the forest fresh from rotting one can drink the thick smoke,
boy, one can see the kingdom impoverished of its treasures.
The dead joy of the city alive until the last damnation, the heavy shadow
of the one who brings sweet darkness, the one with ankles wrapped in cold flames...
Listen to me, the one who was born with my heart outside my chest:
at the last silent call of the living machine we will unite parting
and we will sell ourselves like the lost saints for a palm of mute gold.
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