"Chaos and Creation"
I am what is.
I can hear my power beating
and modelling darkness into outlines.
Am I threatened by those shapeless arrows?
No...
Everything is getting sharper in myself...
I am winning!
O! I shall cease to be my unknown self...
Let the light be!
Everything is begging me and would like an established figure
to take shape as soon as I look to it.
My being is humming.
There come the voices of those which do not still have ones.
Each must wait for its turn...
Time will come for all to open out.
I see darkly,
I see clearly,
it is not a case of hesitating --
it will just be the day and the night
-- the horizon.
Suddenly I see tiny...
it carries a load,
it is black, it is courageous, one preceding another
Ant, I have just breathed life into you.
Shadowy outline...
I try to see better...
my eyesight is adjusting itself, the thing is getting clearer...
Some sort of trunk
that splits into branches high above
-- balance and confusion.
Trees, grow up!
I think of you!
you trees which ignore me from all your roots already
and will only know of me the flight of the doves.
Dark herds of wild mountains,
since I cannot leave you on your own,
I am going to give you eternal foundations.
You will not move any longer, but I promise you...
around a more stable axis you shall revolve forever.
Sometimes I know nothing of what is to come
and I see some old memories before me
-- whatever plant, rock or coolness floating down
even what I did with my mind wandering round.
That falls from me like some forgotten fruit
which is always aknowledged and never repudiated.
Joy of creating, of seeing it all come together,
of not having to start it, but to end it.
Everything escapes me,
blend of streams and living follies,
but a wink restores the quietness of a lake,
preserving whatever life is lying beneath.
Enough for today,
I am tired of creating.
I just want to sleep
so that there be a lot of pastures, some undergrowth looking like sleep
looking like me
when I rest.
I even think I could have some idea while asleep
breaking through dream in its haste to live
as, lately, the breeze
worried to know
what I was thinking about it.