Without music
The silent ones are liars, speak.
I am really angry at speaking alone
And what I say
Awakens errors
Dear heart.
(PT/MAC)
The Sighing Shadow
Light sleep, little propeller,
Little, warm, heart in the air,
Magician love,
The hand's heavy sky, the veins' lightning.
Running down the colorless street,
Caught in its paving stones,
He frees the last bird
From yesterday's halo -
In every well, one snake only.
Might as well dream you can open the gates of the sea.
(PT/MAC)
From Capital of Pain, 1926. As translated from the original French by Patricia Terry and Mary Ann Caws.
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