Now if I had
what I do not have
a language
that made air visible
a footstep
that never stopped re-echoing
and that would come back to me
laden with the plinth of the sky
a country
where I would wait without anxiety
for my pulse to start racing
between the crumbling of the domes
and the beginning that is the poets' heritage
If I had now
what I do not have
I would finish in a milky way
made of the dust of evening

Translated by James Kurkup