Forest, forest, what a sweet
Curse to have shadowless
leaves, to have your leaves
quietless!
I had hidden your trees
from thunders
into the knelt well
close to the ever open
eye of the wells.
Into the masts
to which I tight myself with sap ropes
not to let my body snatched
by the tempting songs of the mermaids
I had hidden your trees
into the warm womb of
the clay mother, where watches
a coal sun.
But these pipes, these alphorns –
too hurting wounds
of the wind’s lips
aren’t they your sons and daughters?
Forest, forest
with shadowless leaves,
like the quiteless leaves .
what a sweet curse …
NAILS
He was losing his way
with his body void of soul
like a broken amphora
panick-stricken
that the nails from
his hands and feet
hurt him no more …
Rendered into English by Dan BRUDA:CU, Ph. D.
