"Does my voice not reach you, are you not haunted
by its somber testimony?'

"Is your house not hushed
in expectation of something about to dawn?'

"It dawns each day . . . but night returns
with its tense vigils and its pain.
After the question, and the moaning,
will the question come again?'

"The eyes regard a limpid countryside,
a face that loves us.
The lips part as if about to speak
their loving words once more.'

"The earth, preserving its paths,
seeks its domain of leaves and revelry.
Milk welling in the sweet mounds of hills
swells the heavy burden of the trees.'

"Mountains and ships lie at calm
in the clear morning light,
and the pulsing world of fishes and roses
is born again.'

"Will this day bring us boons,
calm seas and peaceful ports?
Only from your heights, your seat among the stars
can one take the measure of a day.'

"And I am, he is, we are all together—dead, born, immersed
in mystery—
mindful of demons, but aware
that above the endless flow of blood
blind angels are hovering.'

Translated by Jo Anne Englebert.