Nothingness

I had been bestowed a wasteland

I was supposed to make it fertile,

to populate it

and raise a temple

in which to suffer humiliation

there ! it’s done :

a river of sounds,

a procession of shadows

and my empty grave

since death has thrown my ashes in the eyes of glory

The Poet

He’s not one of those kids

lost by their governess and spoilt by everybody

he looks like a stable boy moving heavily

among the mangers

he’s got the smile of one who walks

handful of sugar, for the horses

he hasn’t given his verdict

on what everybody knows for certain ―

his head bears the burden

of a decision he keeps putting off

he doesn’t hurry

he doesn’t try his strength against anybody

he unceasingly crosses

a way on which other people keep coming

English version by Gabriela PACHIA