Modern Love Xxxvii (Dreams Seperate Us) Poem by Liberatore Suffoletta

Belle nuit, o nuit d’amour
Souris a nos ivresses;
Nuit plus douce que le jour
O belle nuit d’amour!
le temps fuit et sans retour
emporte nos tendresses
loin de cet heureux se`jour;
le temps fuit sans retour
Zephyrs embrases,
versez-nous vos caresses;
zephyrs embrases,
donnez-nous vos baisers,
Ah….


It is almost time for the evening service,
in twilight, walk to temple
seems full of demons.
time of impending darkness, feasts.
time for my revels.
my past returns.

Like when we found some contraband parrots
smuggled into the United States
to learn to speak English there.
They were green
They sang shad-dup, shad-dup
Sca-rude, SCA-RUDE!
There were some already dead in their cages.
dreaming of flying near the mountains
which were their homes
in those plain cages the dreams of mountains
excited the green dead parrots,
they started beating their wings
shoving against their bars.
When cages are let open
all shoot out like arrows
straight for their dreams
of mountains, rivers, valleys, dawn, dusk, day,
Night

Belle nuit, o nuit d’amour
Souris a nos ivresses;
Nuit plus douce que le jour
O belle nuit d’amour!

Freed from the cages
trap of English,
green dream mountains
green dead parrots
green lovers

yet, while we recite the psalms,
memories intrude into the prayer
like ipods with hundreds of cd’s
hundreds of movie film scenes
come to me,
wonderful nightmares,
solitary hours in hotels,
dances,
journeys,
kisses,
bars.
forgotten faces appear.
Lovely times
Wonderful times
Sinister times.
The assassinated green parrots
emerge from their green mountain (With Solomon, king of the
wise and nebachaneezer, king of Babylonia)
Time Square lights are gleaming
on the black rain water that flows
from the sewers on Broadway
Absurd conversations,
drunken nights,
liquid days,
repeat
repeat themselves,
like scratched cd’s,
stopping
restarting
stopping
It is the time when our eyes shine.
The Sabbath house is full of people.
The candles in the palace are lit
It is the time when the Council of War of the defense department meets and experts on torture go down into the prisons. The time of secret police and spies, when thieves and adulterers hover around the house and corpses are hidden. Bodies are fed to the vultures or thrown into the water. It is the time when the dying enter their final agony. The hour of sweat in the orchard and the time of temptations.

The green dead birds sing sadly outside,
in rhymes of blue
calling out for the sun.
in time of darkness.
And the temple is freezing,
while we go on
humming psalms
holding hands.

Belle nuit, o nuit d’amour
Souris a nos ivresses;
Nuit plus douce que le jour
O belle nuit d’amour!

dark becomes even darker
when hopeful of day coming.
Our dreams separate us,
On futons
In our beds
without pillows, with pillows
with eyes closed
each dreaming our own dream
awakening reunites us.
as night draws away
followed by our dreams,
desires
see the sky very inky blue;
when we sleep we don't see it. –
nor this land with its grand canyon,
dark night left calling moon,
evening stars to the mountains
where the green dead parrots sing.

In the beginning was Dance.
dancing the cosmos were created.
for that reason,
all dance,
dancing, they learn to sing
in a world born of a word,
secret word of two lovers in the night.
each night swapping secrets with another night.
Each person is for another person.
I am yes. I am Yes to you, to you for me,
to a you for me.
like waves in the cosmos, we dance, we sing
to the music of the spheres
I tell you again, my love:
I am you and you are me.
You are: love.
You are the wind
I am an ember
You ignite

Belle nuit, o nuit d’amour
Souris a nos ivresses;
Nuit plus douce que le jour
O belle nuit d’amour!