No combat did he unleash, as panting
was the custom set between his breath
His name was also Thelema Semi,
his will can seek a body
in the shade, the shadow of a tree
and the tree that is at the gates of hell.
He was faithful to Orpheus and Proserpina.
He revered his friends, the melody,
both the one that is hidden and the one that shakes
the summer leaves.
Art went with him every day,
nature bestows her calm, her fever.
Calming as the night,
the fever made him quench his thirst
in sunken Hirers,
for he sought a river, not a path.
Time to come to happiness was given him,
he could hear Pascal:
rivers are walking paths.
So that everything he believed in fever
he later understood in calm.
Within what he believes, he is where he knows,
between a column of air and the sacrificial stone.
José Lezama Lima (1910 - 1976) Cuba
Translated by Gregory Rabassa
Source: FSG Work in Progress
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please keep your comments relevant and free from abusive language. Thank you. Note that comments are moderated so it may be a day or two before your comment is posted - irrelevant or abusive comments will not be published.