A bird bumped itself against me
and I realised, I had begun to turn transparent,
Bless my soul! I had only been
And that, not always.
they seem to ask me all sorts of questions:
Tell us, what did you witness?
What did you see through?
Therefore, I have already stopped wriggling
under the scourge of my free will.
There is nothing to admit.
Secrets fall off me themselves –
pierced by a Cupid’s ray.
And I am leaf-fallen.
While above me, through cold branches,
a bare vault of heaven
watches me genealogically…
I do not bemoan my lot,
nor do I triumph.
I feel in between this and that view of life.
After the bird
I await the stone.
Then I’ll become a system fully open
under the jingling sound of broken
And other glassy conditions.
Translated into English by Valentin Krustev & Donna Martell.
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