[Lady Death] Poem by Lucienne Stassaert

Lady Death
as ever at hand

breathing in and out
behind April's
net of mist

the first light
that has as yet
not laid aside its mourning

and which as yet
still lets you pass -

Lady Death
I'm out on a spree with you

into the country
awake with
skewed growing pains

as buds lose their heart
full of dream-seeds
and the green force

reforms the dryness
of bramble and needlefurze -

Lady Death
I feel you deep down in my heart

murmuring like a fountain:
isn't this what's called
life after life?

Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.

Translated by John Irons