He came literally from nothingness."
M I L O D O R
It will rain tonight on the green, calcareous dunes.
The wine preserved until now in a dead man's mouth
will awaken the realm with its bridges
rebuilt into a bell.
A man's tongue will resound audaciously inside a helmet.
And so the trees will also rush, wait for
a leaf with a voice, brought in an urn, to deliver
a message from the shores of sleep to the tides of flags.
Let it drown in your eye
to make me believe that together we'll die.
Your hair, dripping from mirrors, will diffuse the air
in which, with frosty hand, I'll ignite an autumn.
From water drunk by the blind, my little laurel
will climb a tardy ladder to bite your forehead.
P A U L C E L A N
translated by Nina Cassian
Sheep Meadow Press