Faces of the earth whose weight
Of soot soft wax and dry leaves I know
I suddenly feel like seizing you I the taciturn
Like loving you deeply the way one bonds
With a lost animal down a sad street
One who follows you without ever daring to pass you
The apple and the knife that sleep on the table
Without the least equivocation between them
Extend farther than factory sunsets
In the gaze of the man accustomed to his hunger
My memory is laid with those beautiful faience dishes
Found on black farms where one reads
Weddings in double violets
And awkward roosters drawn by hand
Only you terrify me faces of the earth
Like a July sky and like too-clear water
You pull me out of my shoulders you have
Those crude inn manners that please me
And it is my whole life you make me recall. |
