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EDDIES So many mists Risen from our sorrows
So many storms Raging between our temples
So many shadows Walling in our hopes
So many cries Shackling our song
So many fears Holding back our steps
So much clarity Born from these eddies!
From Territoires du souffle
Translation by Annie Finch (First published in Poetry)
OLD WOMAN DYING
Safe in your bed-cage, Delivered to machines Old oh so old Death hesitates to gather you
Absurd head Under the white tendrils A sandstorm of freckles over your skin Your cheeks patchworked with lines Your mouth nothing but a well
You snatch at the air Your heart is losing substance Your horizon is unravelling Your flesh is engulfing you
Old oh so old Where are those who loved you? Your road was too long Death surprised them Life ravaged them
But there is a hand here To cover yours Its touch crosses Your mists of pain
A voice goes with you Towards the place without age Where time cannot besiege you
Let your cast-off clothing fall Leave your prison gently
Move to the edge of sight Rejoin the last flotilla Setting out towards the unknown
From Territoires du souffle
Translation by Annie Finch (First published in Poetry)
Copyright©2006 Annie Finch |