Both myself and the cricket

In the murky ivy

At the window of my room

Possess a split consciousness :

Both of us fail to sleep,

Both of us seek the ecstasy to empower

The moment and draw resurrection nearer

Both of us fear the words

Yet we are not afraid of death


The Wayfarer

For some time now

all the seconds have grown into arrows

someone streches the bow string

and the poisoned arrows hatefully split the air

they wouldn’t know rest until, with a muffled sound,

they find rest in you


One by one

the wayfarer pulls out of his body

the dazzling days

like some flambeaux

like beacons

which can be solely lit

from his deep wounds

and thrusts them into the sides

of his life path

here a fire wound there another

on your right on your left far behind


kilometer stones flaming torches which burn

your bleeding road

phosphorus, snow, sun, light wounds


There comes the evenfall

and the arrows fall like blizzards

there comes the nightfall

and the road is all ablaze

vulnerant omnes, ultima necat

− all arrows wound, the last one to kills

still what a resplendent light !


English version by Gabriela PACHIA