(from a cycle Five Love Letters)
And I sought you in textbooks, I sought you across the ages,
in the wind’s ambushes, in winter’s mortars,
in uncomprehended shame on the horizon before sunset,
in uncomprehended longing of a strand of tobacco
which twists and crumbles between the fingers,
in the displaced light of the blind and the dead,
in the equilibrium between past days and future nights,
in the captivity of souls of glass-blowers.
I sought you in the accents of unknown languages,
in the unsaddled evenings and empty beds in the filed,
in the surprise primrose behind the herb-seller’s ear,
in the punctuation in the speech of whining children.
I’m seeking you in the wild chance of unification
of my scattered nation,
in a stalk of sorrel, in the unused air
which annoyed and appeased the neighbouring villages,
by the anvils of hot and feminine afternoons,
among the fruit hastening towards its seasonal goal,
in the needle which sewed up darkness and light.
I sought you beyond the sky, in heavenly molehills,
in the unread electric meter of an extinguished firefly,
in the assassination attempts by my people against my people,
in the undistinguished constancy of the points of the compass,
undistinguished, and understood as a constant waste of time.
I sought you in the unfinished fear of the shooting star,
unable to reach anything in space.
I sought you, I’m seeking you in all and everything.
I sought you, and seeking you I might only have met you,
but not found you, no, not found you.
Translated by: Ewald Osers