T. (no first name) Wignesan
T. (no first name) Wignesan Poems
|961.||Limerick: Once Cute Pute In Gay Paris Called Miel||12/14/2013|
|962.||The Sensation Of Nothingness, Translation Of Carlos Bousono's Poem: Sensacion De La Nada||11/5/2013|
|963.||Copla Cuarenta Y Siete: This Bad Guy World||6/29/2014|
Comments about T. (no first name) Wignesan
The Sensation Of Nothingness, Translation Of Carlos Bousono's Poem: Sensacion De La Nada
Consider, no matter what, even something agreeable
falls so low: in the pureness
of metaphysics, in the sublime
brightness of nothingness.
In the cubic emptiness, in the number
of fire. It’s the bonfire
which causes inanity to burn. In the centre
no wind whatsoever blows. It is the fire
pure, pure nothingness. No being inhabited by faith,
there is no extension. The reduction of the world
to a point, to a number which suffers.
Because it is hideous, a symbolical endurance,
without the uncertain material which enlivens it.
Is it the unwaveringness of ...
Curse Of Caste
They came on bullock-carts
loaded with gods
traversed sinuous mountain ranges