- 2013
translated by Yannis Goumas
I return from my father’s funeral
he saw to it that we were served
with children’s songs
oddly varied
he is in a cradle singing
the child that he is
the cradle doesn’t creak
the world goes round
we sprout for a while
dry grains we
the children hold us in their hands
for a little
(in the interim)
I visit
the beds of the dying
to record their final words
I’m tired, confused. I start shouting:
“Next, next one, please,
let’s see what more he has to say.”
(“His concern for the life that’s ending, man,
and if it’s ending unexpectedly, concern for his folks.”)
I am preparing to die discreetly
like another of Céline’s* dogs
without complaining
and above all without theatrics
simply
the way death occurs
and as I’m planning it
I die in an accident
without my ever knowing about it
Strange that I should be talking to you
Strange
The abrading of time (2013)
* Louis-Ferdinand Céline (1894-1961): French novelist
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