to live is to grieve

Poem by Juan Gelman






                                 M.A.




These visits we pay each other,
you from death, I
close to it, are childhood that places
a finger on time and says
that not knowing life is a mistake.
I ask myself why
When I turn any corner
I find your surprised candor.
Is horror extreme music?
Sorrows lead to your warmth
sung in your dreams,
the houses of smoke where brilliance lived.
Suddenly, you are alone.
I smell your distant solitude
obedient to its laws of iron.
Thought insists on
bringing you and returning you
to what you never were.
Your saliva is cold.
You weigh less than my desire,
Than the tight tongue of the air.






                     +  14january2014















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