In my solitude I live,
The mortal wound which the knife
Of dame poetry did give
Bleeds a sea around my isle.
‘Who would venture into me?’
In starry nights and lone dawns
My waves in rattling chains sing
The clutch of infinity.
What am I? An adventure
Though a prisoner I be,
And the dungeon holding me
Burns aquiver with dawn-light.
Unfree thoroughly, and yet,
You tears, you fire, I do bless,
And pray the ache in my chest
Spread you wider poetry.
Alone with the stars
and the soft murmur
of the distant river,
down below the city
will clamor till dawn.
In the moonlight
a hermit sits
lost in the sky
One more dawn…
my heart a scatter
of leaves in the wind
Toute seule
dans l’immense nuit
elle est partie
chercher son ombre
dans l’ombre des étoiles
The day ends,
with a chest full of longing
I round my nest,
its twigs, tea and poetry,
its balm, silence.
When spring shakes
his flowery branch and sings
do not wonder, that is me,
come back from the dead to show you
what it means to be free,
what it means to live
without restlessness and fear.
~
Her touch reminds me
of the deep presence
from which I was born.
Like a roaming ribbon of fragrance
her touch recalls me
into the heart of the flower.
~
People wish to travel places,
but this being with you
is all the places in one,
and your single touch
completes the journey home.
~
This heavy ache inside
at dawn a wound gushing
unheard untouched unseen
with the silent scream
of a distant star
~
Incarnate solitude…
heart become a bowl
welling to overflow
with the bitterness of tears
~
Since I cannot pen my joy
let me pen my tears,
into the heart of solitude
let my pen weep.
~
Can the world be fixed?
The silent jasmine,
The rising moon.
