from “The Night Side”

Translated from French by Marilyn Hacker

X
Who will tell the sun about my land
my harried medlar tree
my springtime without nervures 
my helpful hand
Who will recount my rootless
garden 
and my door open
to all comers
my night of faraway sounds

my wheat that absorbs
the hours 

Who will cure me
of my sequestration 
and sweet secret
—my monochrome dream

my space gone gray at the temples 
the barter of my frenzy

the slumber at the edge
of my well of fever 

My steppe with an abundance of laughter 
Perhaps it would be enough . . .
But I watch
time passing