Motion
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If you are the amber mare
………..I am the road of blood
If you are the first snow
………..I am he who lights the hearth of dawn
If you are the tower of night
………..I am the spike burning in your mind
If you are the morning tide
………..I am the first bird's cry
If you are the basket of oranges
………..I am the knife of the sun
If you are the stone altar
………..I am the sacrilegious hand
If you are the sleeping land
………..I am the green cane
If you are the wind's leap
………..I am the buried fire
If you are the water's mouth
………..I am the mouth of moss
If you are the forest of the clouds
.……….I am the axe that parts it
If you are the profaned city
………..I am the rain of consecration
If you are the yellow mountain
………..I am the red arms of lichen
If you are the rising sun
………..I am the road of blood
Translated by Eliot Weinberger
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Exclaimation
Stillness
……………not on the branch
in the air
……………Not in the airin the moment
……………………..hummingbird
Translated by Eliot Weinberger
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Between Going And Staying
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Between going and staying the day wavers,
in love with its own transparency.
The circular afternoon is now a bay
where the world in stillness rocks.
All is visible and all elusive,
all is near and can't be touched.
Paper, book, pencil, glass,
rest in the shade of their names.
Time throbbing in my temples repeats
the same unchanging syllable of blood.
The light turns the indifferent wall
into a ghostly theater of reflections.
I find myself in the middle of an eye,
watching myself in its blank stare.
The moment scatters. Motionless,
I stay and go: I am a pause.
Translator Unknown
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Touch
My hands
open the curtains of your being
clothe you in a further nudity
uncover the bodies of your body
My hands
invent another body for your body
Translator Unknown
Translator Unknown
۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞
