HARBA LORI FA Comments

So many species! So many individuals
to suffer and smile in these stone-filled hills!

The fig tree is bent to the south,
overhead the gentle snoring of an aeroplane.

My friend is waiting by a bush with sharp thorns.
He knows the story of his downfall.

Between gallnuts and thistles,
we see the gleam of the sea, a sail in the distance.

Everything is asleep. Give me another life and I will refuse it.
Shells and crickets, my cup is filled with eternal afternoon.

The stream I drank from yesterday had cool, clear water.
I saw the reflection of the laurel, I saw the shadow

of its leaves drifting away over the bed.
This was all I wanted. Harba lori fa.

My age hangs on a thread. I am the spider
over the path, weaving its multangular time

from bramble to bramble,
until the walker comes by on his way to the harbour,

the walker who hits out with his stick.
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