אִם כֵּן, מָה יִקְרֶה לַבּוּדְהָה
אֶת מָה שֶׁאֵינוֹ קַיָּם?
When my girl left me,
as I once wrote,
I went to the café
and there were three people there:
one tall, one fat and one thin
and the fat one had two red flowers on the chest
of the fat one (but
not the skinny one).
when I came in they didn’t notice me.
There comes such a moment:
a man comes in and sits
while another thinks
a mere breeze rattled the door
or not even that.
From year to year it grows more delicate,
and it will be so delicate by the end, —
she said, meaning it.
But sometimes I get the feeling I’m drowning in time,
I get the feeling I’ve been drowning for such a long time,
It’s just that you’re so sunk in thought, she replied.
It’s just that you’re so sunk in thought, you know.
I don’t know. Sometimes I think my strength has once again fled.
Delicate, you know, is just another side of deficient.
I know, and I bless you for your revelation,
I bless you for the color of your eyes,
you don’t leave a thing behind.
And if so, that’s precisely what worries me,
and if so, that’s precisely what grieves me,
and if so, that’s what I feel.
Wrong again: what you feel is goodness, and it surrounds you.
It’s already all around you, bearing you on its shoulders,
if you’ll just be patient, it’ll embrace you yet,
in the end it’ll have to kiss you.
You know how these things go.
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter — bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”