before it finally reached my home
of clay soil and carved its crumbling bed?
Eternity humming from its dark source.
only its wrinkled silk surface.
Mirror images of sparkling light.
Waves sliding one under the other.
cracking, and still another glass,
between was and will be, I became / I’ll not be,
running water’s burning catharsis.
in corners of the room, in understanding.
But I can no longer clean everything.
I’ve strength enough for work, but not for cleanness.
My eyes no longer tolerate the sun.
My heart can’t manage all your empathies.
I don’t look into death’s eyes unafraid.
gatherings of dust. Mud and dirt cover our lives.
They gather in the corners of our souls.
We can’t step into the light for fear of drowning.
becomes immobile, a dummy,
woven into easily-broken
glittering threads of thought.
those phosphorescences that reflect each other.
He sinks into the darkness of our twilight,
into the harbours of despair.
erupt from our minds if only for a moment.
Let it be you that leads us through the gates
of death to the unknown far side of being.
behind him, he too becomes rock.
He becomes absorbed in the cell
Of the bones, in their vaulted arcades.
roasts at white heat, eventually melts,
and from the glowing magma there blossoms
a whole new framework, the rose in the desert.
within the rock, is resurrected, vanishes
on the road that leads through his body
from fullness into wholeness.
From ‘Fifteen Haiku’
(A Tizenöt haiku-ból)
Hot tear glows and rolls
down the desert of the face.
Earth in ice-cold space
Translated by: George Szirtes
Tags: Zsuzsa Beney