In this the livid hour
He thinks of nothing
But the carapace of guilt,
Covering him and her.
He hesitates to look
Into the dark mirror
Lest he should recognise
Narcissus there. He cannot sleep
For fear of killing her in a dream.
Neither can forswear complicity
In this the livid hour.
Whose was the error
To split the ‘I' from the ‘Other'?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem