Twelve Years

The line

that remained, that

became true: . . . your

house in Paris — become

the alterpiece of your hands.

Breathed through thrice,

shone through thrice.

…………

…….It's turning dumb, turning deafbehind our eyes.I see the poison flowerin all manner of words and shapes.Go. Come.Love blots out its name: toyou it ascribes itself.Tr. Michael Hamburger