The Friend - Francisca Stoecklin

You are so far away.
The space that parts our gaze
Cannot be bridged
in a single day.
But my yearning is so strong
That it carries me boldly
Into your presence.
I see you
In the loneliness of your tower
In a cross-vaulted room at evening
Like a minor divinity
Of some dark cult, enthroned
Upon an enormous chair,
Before you, a white book,
Into which you dig for signs and figures.
- Night rises from the sea
With dread and greatness.
A pointed crescent moon
Soars up.
The waves thrash dully
And powerfully into the hollowed out cliff
On which, like an idol to duration,
Your tower stands.
The waves roar, beating, beating,
Eternally scooping into the cliff.
It is, to you, the sound
Of a giant heart
And sometimes you are filled with dread
When it too wildly
And feverishly roars.
- Then, you feel it again
Like the beating of your own heart.
The sea roars dully
And powerfully in the blood
And exceeds
The tender strength of your puny body.
You would like to build temples
That last as long as pyramids
And, thereby, some new myth proclaim.

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Francisca Stoecklin (1894- 1931) Switzerland
Translated by David Paley
Source: Poems without Frontiers