we disappear
eagles tigers
nothing in the gold
nothing in the emeralds
nothing in the feathers
nothing in the word//
it is so hard
to live like this!
no happiness on the earth
for me//
we live on earth
lent
here we are
men
over there ones without bodies
in your house
here home between
a little while only
//on the edge of war near the bonfire
we taste knowledge//
because I cry
because I am desperate
I am left alone
there is no compassion on earth
how can I live among men
even at your side
god
I am bitter//
where are we going Oh where are we going
are we dead are we still alive
is this where time ends is there time somewhere else
people are only here on earth
with pungent flowers and with songs
and out of the world
surely
they make truths!//
only with our flowers can we find pleasure
only with our songs does our sadness dissolve
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Stephen Berg, Nothing in the Word: Versions of Aztec Poetry (via heteroglossia)
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