From hand to hand
I no longer think of anything but the night
The long thawing winter of sovereign thoughts
Now that the circuit is closing
A dead star drags a fire without sparks though the black sky
Cold hands unshackled but always at a cost
A timid distorted glow around the unsheltering hearth
At the roundabout of failures
Destitution paler than an egg
Against the battered fence in the foul breath of hate
I walk the parched trail of happiness
The distance open to its hour
In the furious rattling of links shaken free
Desertionless days held back with a chain
No room any more not here not there
Fixed at a standstill
The hive of light
———————————
Pierre Reverdy
translated from the French by Dan Bellm
Black Square Editions
