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In the heart of my love.

A sweet bird shows me the light
That is in his eyes. I can see it well.
He sings on a birdlime berry
In the midst of the sun.

The eyes of the animal singers
And their songs of anger and of dread
Have kept me from leaving the bed.
I'll spend my life here.

Dawn in a godforsaken country
Looks like bliss.
And as a woman, spent, slumbers at daybreak,
Head first, her fall illuminates her.

Constellations,
You recognize her silhouette
Here, everything darkens:
The landscape resolves, rosy cheeks,
Its contours fade and rush into my heart
With sleep.
Who wants to steal my heart away?

I never dreamed of such a night.
The women in the garden try to embrace me--
Pillars of the sky, the motionless trees
Fervently embrace the sky they brace.

A woman with a pale heart
Puts night into her dress.
Love has found night
On her impalpable breasts.

How can you enjoy it all?
Better to erase it.
Man in all his movements,
In all his triumphs and in all his sorrows
Sleeps. He sleeps, he sleeps, he sleeps.
With his sighs he blots out the invisible, miniature night.

He is neither hot nor cold.
His prisoner has fled--to sleep.
He is not dead, he sleeps.

Once asleep, everything
Surprised him,
He played with ardor,
He watched,
He heard.

His last words:
"If I had to start over, I would find you without even looking."

He sleeps, he sleeps, he sleeps.
The sun can rise if it likes,
He sleeps.


translated by Robert Huddleston
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Article Details
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Author:Grindel, Eugene
Publication:Chicago Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Dec 22, 2004
Words:261
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