silence

translated by Nittin and PLS

in the silence between morning and dusk,

I was —

I was the one who kept failing,

silently lowering the sound of the footsteps through the jungle of stamens. 

how high could the water rise, how transparent could it be

to cover the top of the breathing hairs, what’s swaying

was your hair refusing to melt.

pierce into the depth of my sorrow, Marianne,

with your most poignant eyes. Please hold me in your arms,

like those people who embrace the fragmentedness of the glass.

otherwise —

otherwise,

across the plain without any shepherd,

how could one survive as purely as snow?

yet things are different now, it’s the dead that are no longer willing to enter

my cup unable to hold any water, to take another stroll

and swim into our forest of neon souls.

flowers and leaves torn from each other,  ashes and fires burning each other, over the blade

a crimson submarine has just taken off

I love you, all of you,

please tiptoe through my fragile heart with care,

through my humble eyes of plantain.

none of the requiem,

should have been chanted nightly by the dreams.