(28 July 1844 – 8 June 1889 / Stratford, Essex)

You who are no longer in the world's present tense

but in an excess of night with hidden doorways
I create you in your own image caress your waters

we watch ourselves draw apart
and the dream shadows a never-indifferent night
then reemerges in all its weight of aerial pain

I keep you multiple
in the crucible of fecund breath
in the pollen-gathering corollas of silence
at the heart of words made of shattered dawns
brought back to life in a prodigal day's shivering

more simply I'm taking a rest from your dream
with suns in my eyes
it's that way with certain dreams
as with great happiness or great sorrow

for your silence when there is no voice
for the dream that you bear in your night

the flame must be fed the lamp protected

Translation: Marilyn Hacker

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Comments (4)

Hé had no work to hold His heart up at the strain; Nay, roguish ran the vein. Beautiful lines.
Brilliant poem on brother nicely penned
Nature, bad, base and blind. Thanks for sharing it here.
Such an interesting poem posted here.....👍👍👍🤓