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
