Shattered places
and the breeze
of dawn wakes up on me
My shoulder still in slumber
A cloud bowing
to the flicker of infinity
Is it that trees invent their echo
or
has the blind
just dipped his hand
in water
The poet closes
his eyes
on a rose
of
dust

Scratching my window-pane
the pine tree
lightly shudders
under a snow of ashes
Smooth water
From which paleness
did the wind return
and throw another topaz in the river
Solitude
could
end with winding paths
intoxication
trips
But whenever I inquire about death
a lady stands against me
impetuous and mute
The night barks here
Thumps somewhere
And I am drinking
Hˆlderlin's wine

A shimmer
Then another
Enough for the magician
to make sure
that time is tame
that poetry is a call
No one saw me
quietly opening a drawer
to see
where did my self
sneak in
My bones have their own biting frost
Is there a name that will go out
before me tonight

Clouds upon clouds
flutter
A leap
I almost thought my hand
was made of clouds
Play with my poetry's lock
I say
I'm a lantern
a rug
a snow
a wall
Two starts kidnapped my hand
For a second
I watched it
tremble
weep
Am I
or am I

Translated by Anton Shammas