Wonderfully alone, without any sort of father,
And just looking at the trees, their slender throats
Basking under the hidden lights- They go up and
Up well trimmed, patient in their dances before
The red bricks of well inebriated sororities:
How I used to love her under here, I did- Like a child,
Tipping over my chairs and gin, thinking it was something else,
Six years ago, a house floating on the waves with so many
Mothers lost in their kitchens, and airplanes far away
On the other side of slow going canals:
Oh, I am going to find her again, and I’m going
To pay for it by the Order of Jesus- all my ancient sins
On a collection plate whispered beneath those unturning
Boughs; They will wait and see how I come and gossip
About me all alone, like a very lonely wedding procession,
Trouble on my brow; neither this or that, or any sort of
Profession, but the shadows the dark ink of my work,
And I will be thinking about a nocturnal lover even while
She inhabits the horizon’s far distance, and turns over against
Him in their well proportioned bed,
Their shed rind licked by the silver teeth of waves;
She spends her time remembering his name
And saying so, never realizing how I inhabit her through
The quiet order of these prayers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem