To feel the green smell of calm winter,
the ice flowers whitening the heights
the transparent certainty of the nearby sea.
To feel…
the distant echo of ancient gravestones
the perfect cold silence of marble,
what was and no longer is, absent joy.
To feel…
the soft beat of drizzling darkness,
all things in nothing, the flight of a bird,
remaining life, no longer life.
To feel…
* *
To feel dead death that is now time,
the solitary living psalm of feeling.
Translated by D. Sam Abrams