Verbs surrender, omens do not say
These lines, they say
of nothing that happens,
they do not portray facts.
A few rare fossil verbs endure:
It stands, it waits, it spreads.
This the elated surface wants:
to excessive talk, to the spiders’ bite
opposing of sandy shores’ silences
the gasping of jellyfish.
Below, inside, we distrust dawns:
we need night, once more,
of root and seed
we need dark, inside,
its dying crowds.
Here, on the surface, verbs surrender
omens do not say.
Translation by Angela D’Ambra
