There are moments
I try to stay within my norm
to adhere only to what I see

the strictly true, the newspaper, the hands

I try tenaciously to abstain.

But darkness comes and I go looking
for another

the maimed

the one who goes around showing himself
only briefly in some dance
the one who sings

(I barely know there is something around -
its fears
it seems I need to yield ground
all that I know
it seems it's like that for everyone:
open your mouth slightly, first,
as the moment just before dying -

it's this human tongue
that takes shape
and struggles against the sorrow it withholds).

Translation: Moira Egan and Damiano Abeni