Rainy Summer [EN]
(Translated by Kevin Nolan)
A sentence followed me, long wordless matrix,
the negative of sign and silence, all possible sentences
sounded there: I slept the sounder for it, followed it on
tiptoe, heard no other, condensing raindrops e to mc 2
a lifelong sentence tracing back creation
so deep I couldn’t sound its depth
this secret sequence, beginning with the gasmain
in its wired enclosure metering the
sentence where I see your eyes and glimpse my son
quite liquid, mirroring many tongues across its changing skin
drawn on towards the inward, shining stream, the iris crypt
of sentences, this sentence, commencing or continuing
A sentence followed me, long wordless matrix,
chrsyalid of deepest heartvalve, untried wing
of film unravelling a mansion’s worth of sloping streets,
the cuttings of my days, a mauvine slip unrfurling as the
sentence swirls in calming breeze or murmurs through the rain
of speech, underneath its words or hidden by a face –
sometimes I hear it straightaway, needing just one word,
the curl a single letter makes on empty sheets,
where is that sentence which I pass through woken by its nightly glow
out there in the fields flashing its asides? is this
the sentence, sinking down tectonic palates
or not this sentence but some other, always other
A sentence pulsed the deepest scar, no memory
below the sweet skinned sleep said wake now, wake now
a sentence followed burning wordless sadness
spinning in the flesh and wanting nothing more
no pause or rest or passing come to birth
a soundless sentence spoke by no one, none to hear
sounding the cardial nightclock out of time
in empty gravelled courtyards sounds the chainedup dog
the sentence pulsing like the sea inside a scuttled hull
glistens in the berries of a dream to chant there wake now, wake now,
the shoreless stormcry carried off by blinded waters,
the measured tambour threading sea to moon
A sentence short or long wordless riff
you hear its murmur as you run
then stop, it grows quite still, it stammers in your chest
and day and night the sentence, always there
beyond the Gulf is pulsing out its love
speechless among the speakers in a body always mute
the sentence dances on immobile limbs
sings high notes for the head, in the closed
mouth staircase plunging for the next floor eyes quite shut
a sentence whispered short as alpine shadow,
a flying sentence, firework of light plucked from the storm
a dream rider, dead astride his panting charcoal mare
A shadowed sentence passed, an endless nighttime autobahn
gliding though the depth of fog to never find the exit
throbs beneath the trampled snow or lit by flares
that flash between the blue lighthouses, good, good –
this rolling sentence closing tired eyes against the stream,
rolls down the slope without an end in sight
a sentence late on intercity trains that ride by night
over level crossings passing far beyond the
whispers in the fog, the catatonic speech of slurried ice,
deserted service station – pools of thickened oil
advancing sentence, no knowing where it goes or comes
from, turning sentence, revolving it, let fly
A sentence speaks, long wordless matrix
of water disappearing when I think
to inundate with more, the sentences pour out I hear no
more, just sounds replacing sound, the deafened shower
that draws each sentence through the metalled brain of wires
tattooed like the undercurrent dolphin skeins
of sentences swimming with promises not kept –
all this I’ll follow without a word, leaving behind me all my words
a sentence in which there’s you and is no-you
languages of fire of earth, word that knows no word,
The sentence is body without frame, desperate hope in flight
recipient light, secret-guardian underground in silent wall of soil.
