Memory II


He spoke sitting on what looked like

the marble remnant of an ancient gate;

endless and empty the plain to the right to the left

the shadows descended from the mountain.

‘The poem is everywhere. Your voice

sometimes appears on its side

like a dolphin that for a while keeps company

to the sailing boat in the sunshine and

then vanishes again. The poem is everywhere

like the wings of the wind in the wind

that touched the gull’s wings for a single moment.

Same as our lives and different too, as a woman’s

face changes and yet it remains the same

after she undresses. The one who has loved

knows this; in the light of other people

the world decays; but you, remember Hades

and Dionysus are the same.’

He said, and then he took the long road

that leads to the old harbor, now sunk

over there in the rushes. At twilight,

you’d speak about the death of an animal,

so naked. I still remember;

that he traveled to Ionian shores, to empty conches of theaters

where only the lizard crawls over the dry stone,

and I asked him: ‘Will they get filled again sometime?’

And he answered: ‘Perhaps, at the time of death.’

And he ran to the orchestra yelling:

‘Let me hear my brother!’

And the silence around us was merciless

and not incised on the glass of the blue.