After this night, my lack of faith, the creaking

Poem By Hugues C. Pernath

After this night, my lack of faith, the creaking
Of this constant silence, this breaking
This revering. This very last attempt suppressed
By no word, no testament against time.
In this room I endured probability,
Those who defiled everything and celebrating and feeling
Maintained their caprice against rule right.
But I am I, and shall be no other
Among the rampant roots, the rays and the delusion.

I heard the beating of fleeting wings
Above the overgrown statues where we were missing,
And while the rain rattled and my language loved you
I ditched my aversion, my distance
And still groggy, no clouds gave me the earth
And your lies not even a coward's courage.
But sometimes the shining of the apples hurts.

In the dark the stairs removed me a tread at a time
From a dying that became my life. Soiled
And matted with the foam of the sad hues
In which I woke, my breath filled strange cavities
And foundered after the journeys I undertook, after finding.
I, who as the only survivor, felt the desperation
That lay in state, cutting across my bygone days,
I, defenceless, relish this fifth season
For dying will be for me a deafness that lasts.

Translation: Paul Vincent

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