I am not sad, no tenderness attracts me

Poem By Hugues C. Pernath

I am not sad, no tenderness attracts me,
No body will ever be able to feel mine
No other ear my confusion, my unease
In the speechless torment of language.
Every day more mortally my world contorts
In the fearful ramifications of the pain.
I have borne the very last book, from right to left
And with all my shortcomings it is I who judge
Who is burned and who struggles through the lie.

For nothing other than humility
Than the consummation of doubting,
For nothing else has delimited us.
I will have the light reiterate the darkness,
Rise again from the rock's inglorious repose
And as the meagre water trickles from my wounds
The night approaching hears my twisting heart.

Nothing engrafted has altered me
No generous past drugged me. No moaning.
These things fell apart, these things went right.
I love, I write and I experience friendship
But as a mason does, free and walled in
I will complete the temple whose last cornerstone
Will signify my end. And in that same word
Expressing all my love, I will live on
In the scourge of those sun-signs where I belong.

Translation: Tanis Guest

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I no longer belong but control the trembling

I no longer belong but control the trembling
Ablaze and senile, sleepless in the past
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I dwelt in the corridors of come and go
In the boundless dismay of tacky colours
Nothing's still true, no sun splits open.
No son will ever speak in this handful of life

In the loveless landscape of my solitude

In the loveless landscape of my solitude
No movement prevails that calms me, no rest
That consoles or dispatches me like a firstborn.
Proudly my blood translates the signs,

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As a relative, I have hope in common with no one
With no one the choice of love
With which I live alone, with which I stagger
Moving but subdued by the boundless landscape

In my strange sorrow I suspect petrifaction

In my strange sorrow I suspect petrifaction
Of many lives, sometimes the foulness of the source
The lily or the shady foliage.
Sometimes I suspect the trembling of your hands