Stressed with yearning
To stay contained, deep in myself
I long to surface without concern,
To be a child with the newborn day
Longing to emerge unnamed and move on and on
I yearn for a new revelation,
To be filled with cosmic elation
I long to rise with the sun at your uttered word,
To flood within with hidden fate,
To fall apart in distress and yearn
I yearn with a thousand doubts and riddles
Racing each other,
Jostling me in heated turmoil,
Unraveling me, cutting me off from me
And suddenly I sense
That I am yearning for me
* * *
In my memorabilia I do not have any --
I have not a single intimate tombstone.
Nebulous names nap within me
An untidy tomb of a teeming kin.
Oh Lord! Whose name shall I hug,
Whom shall I adulate in my mind?
What stone shall be a base and prop my candles,
For which single slab shall I burn incense?
SYLVA KAPUTIKIAN
translated by Tatul Sonentz
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment