Poetry is a celestial attack

I am absent but at the bottom of this absence

There is waiting for myself

And this waiting is another mode of presence

waiting for my return

I am in other objects

I'm on a trip giving a little of my life

To certain trees and certain stones

who have waited many years

 

They got tired of waiting for me and sat down

 

I am not and I am

I am absent and I am present on standby

They would want my language to express themselves

And I would like theirs to express them

Here is the mistake, the atrocious mistake

 

heartbreaking pitiful

I'm getting into these plants

I'm leaving my clothes

My meats are falling

And my skeleton is covered with bark

 

I am becoming a tree

How many times have I turned into other things...

It is painful and full of tenderness

 

I could give a shout but the transubstantiation would be frightened

We must be silent, wait in silence

 

by Vicente Huidobro

 

Frogmore, Frogmore (233, 55, 26) - Moderado

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Frogmore/234/56/26

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