Parading

when you, mingled between sleep

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

thought: “Had we the first intimation of the Definition of Life,

ink   mere eraser   fuck it   let’s become

Sometimes the translations are cryptic in themselves.

I can’t help looking at the clock:

in secret one thing / to perceive, the / tall blue starry

I am not writing a history of these times or of past times or of any future

we long / for a better world, we seek to deliver

And I, on the roof’s edge,