After Rilke’s “Les Fenêtres”
I.
how much loss
gains suddenly in emphasis
and brilliant sadness
II.
far from that which lives and turns
III.
languages
of our vain comings and goings wilt and gnaw
IV.
beat them, punish
them for having said and always said
V.
tear out, finally, our spells
VI.
one life pours and grows impatient
for another life
VII.
and the lovers, look on them there,
immobile and frail
pinned like the butterflies
for the beauty of their wings
VIII.
too great in the outdoors
IX.
like the lyre, you should be
rendered a constellation
X.
like the scales or the lyre
an almost-name of the ages’ absences
XI.
should I defend myself
am I not intact
XII.
one who loves is never beautiful
XIII.
tender – strained
XIV.
all hazards are abolished
at the middle of love
with a little bit of space around it
where we are the masters
XV.
changeable like the sea
XVI.
ice, sudden, where our face is mirrored
traversed
XVII.
taste of freedom compromised
by the presence of fate
XVIII.
for whom would I wait
XIX.
with this heart all full which loss completes
XX.
will I be found when the night abounds
given over to you, inexhaustible
XXI.
climb! turn far and away
XXII.
doubt
that you can give the excess which arrests me
XXIII.
the sky: immense example
of depth and height
XXIV.
make of the air a round arena
XXV.
effort circumscribes
our life enormous
XXVI.
stretched toward the night
what
escaped
XXVII.
set out in type on the page
a little
image
vague
XXVIII.
like the greyhounds
arranging their legs
XXIX.
the sense of our rites
waits
XXX.
intent
XXXI.
who rushes, who tilts, who remains
after the abandonment of the night
XXXII.
starry avaricious
XXXIII.
all the grand unbroken numbers
that the night will multiply
XXXIV.
new celestial youth
the matutinal sky
XXXV.
buckles close
XXXVI.
under the guise of tenderness
XXXVII.
time uses his jacket
XXXVIII.
inconsolable space
XXXIX.
turned me into wind,
placed me in the river
XL.
leaves fled . . .
XLI.
I had drunk
all of my abyss
XLII.
one must not tire
and eat with one’s eyes
XLIII.
vision watered
profusely a garden of images
XLIV.
each bird whose flight crosses
my expanse
XLV.
nothing but looking seems like life to me
XLVI.
nothing but looking seems like life
XLVII.
while the prunes ripen
O my eyes, eaters of roses
you will drink the moon
XLVIII.
I consent
and I consent force
XLIX.
oh force
does not frighten me anymore, because it cradles me
L.
in the morning, small wild,
become almost a mouth
all worn and bloodless
LI.
Be, stars, the rhymes
found at the ends of end
LII.
say enough
from ArrowFind more by Sumita Chakraborty at the library
Copyright © 2020 Sumita Chakraborty
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Alice James Books.