Obviously, song came before speech
and moans came before song.
Whales sing refrains and antiphons,
My invisible, other true friend, Brother Zoti Lamort,
unknowable, ever-present, everywhere
like a vast four-dimensional carpet,
asks me silently why I have to be human,
if love is not the reason
Urinals are strange places
where men stand
like itinerant sweet-peas
against temporary trellises
Farming is more swords
than earth-savaging, earth-exhausting ploughshares:
exile from Eden,
starvation and infection,
In the absurd
eventuality of re-incarnation
I should be desirous
of returning as a bower-bird
I am nobody.
As the lightning flashed
the city showed itself as greasy ruins,
and lush landscape was revealed
In just one respect they tend to deviate.
In other ways they earnestly collaborate,
The same is true of dissidents and poets.
translation of a famous sonnet by Pierre de Ronsard (1524-1585)
from Sonnets for Hélène
When you are very old, at evening, by the fire,
On warm, still nights
I hear rocks groan in their sleep.
I am mumbling sadness
unable to love or to weep,