The Human Face

I. Soon

Of all the springtimes of the world

This one is the ugliest

Of all of my ways of being

To be trusting is the best

Grass pushes up snow

Like the stone of a tomb

But I sleep within the storm

And awaken eyes bright

Slowness, brief time ends

Where all streets must pass

Through my innermost recesses

So that I would meet someone

I don’t listen to monsters

I know them and all that they say

I see only beautiful faces

Good faces, sure of themselves  

Certain soon to ruin their masters

II. The women’s role

As they sing, the maids dash forward

To tidy up the killing fields

Well-powdered girls, quickly to their knees

Their hands — reaching for the fresh air —

Are blue like never before

What a glorious day!

Look at their hands, the dead

Look at their liquid eyes

This is the toilet of transience

The final toilet of life

Stones sink and disappear

In the vast, primal waters

The final toilet of time

Hardly a memory remains

the dried-up well of virtue

In the long, oppressive absences

One surrenders to tender flesh

Under the spell of weakness

III. As deep as the silence

As deep as the silence

Of a corpse under ground

With nothing but darkness in mind

As dull and deaf

As autumn by the pond

Covered with stale shame

Poison, deprived of its flower

And of its golden beasts

out its night onto man

IV. Patience

You, my patient one

My patience

My parent

Head held high and proudly

Organ of the sluggish night

Bow down

Concealing all of heaven

And its favor

Prepare for vengeance

A bed where I'll be born

V. First march, the voice of another

Laughing at sky and planets

Drunk with their confidence

The wise men wish for sons

And for sons from their sons

Until they all perish in vain

Time burdens only fools

While Hell alone prospers

And the wise men are absurd

VI. A wolf

Day surprises me and night scares me

haunts me and winter follows me

An animal walking on the snow has placed

Its paws in the sand or in the mud

Its paws have traveled

From further afar than my own steps

On a path where death

Has the imprints of life

VII. A flawless fire

The threat under the red sky

Came from below — jaws

And scales and links

Of a slippery, heavy chain

Life was spread about generously

So that death took seriously

The debt it was paid without a thought

Death was the God of love

And the conquerors in a kiss

Swooned upon their victims

Corruption gained courage

And yet, beneath the red sky

Under the appetites for blood

Under the dismal starvation

The cavern closed

The kind earth filled  

The graves dug in advance

Children were no longer afraid

Of maternal depths

And madness and stupidity

And vulgarity make way

For humankind and brotherhood

No longer fighting against life —

For an everlasting humankind

VIII. Liberty

On my school notebooks

On my desk, on the trees

On the sand, on the snow

I write your name

On all the read pages

On all the empty pages

Stone, blood, paper or ash

I write your name

On the golden images

On the weapons of warriors

On the crown of kings

I write your name

On the jungle and the desert

On the nests, on the broom

On the echo of my childhood

I write your name

On the wonders of nights

On the white bread of days

On the seasons betrothed  

I write your name

d'azur On all my blue rags

On the sun-molded pond

On the moon-enlivened lake

I write your name

On the fields, on the horizon

On the wings of birds

And on the mill of shadows

I write your name

On every burst of dawn

On the sea, on the boats

On the insane mountain

I write your name

On the foam of clouds

On the sweat of the storm

On the rain, thick and insipid

I write your name

On the shimmering shapes

On the colorful bells

On the physical truth

I write your name

On the alert pathways

On the wide-spread roads

On the overflowing places

I write your name

On the lamp that is ignited

On the lamp that is dimmed

On my reunited houses

I write your name

On the fruit cut in two

Of the mirror and of my room

On my bed, an empty shell

I write your name

On my dog, young and greedy

On his pricked-up ears

On his clumsy paw

I write your name

On the springboard of my door

On the familiar objects

On the wave of blessed fire

I write your name

On all harmonious flesh

On the face of my friends

On every out-stretched hand

I write your name

On the window-pane of surprises

On the careful lips

Well-above silence

I write your name

On my destroyed shelter

On my collapsed beacon

On the walls of my weariness

I write your name

On absence without want

On naked solitude

On the steps of death

I write your name

On regained health

On vanished risk

On hope free from memory

I write your name

And by the power of one word

I begin my life again

I am born to know you

To call you by name: Liberty!