No More Learning

. . . . . . . . .

27.

You watch me

I cannot tell you

the truth yet

I dare not, too little one,

What has happened to you

-

One day I will tell it

to you

- for as a man

I'd not wish you

not to know

your fate

-

or man

dead child

28.

No - not

one of the great

deaths -

- as long as we

ourselves live, he

lives - in us

it is only after we're

dead he will be so

- and the bell that tolls

for the Dead will toll for

him

29.

- And let us speak

of what

we both know

we two

mystery

30.

Oh! Make us

suffer

you who

thought so

little of it - all

that equates to

your life, painful in

shattered

us

while you

glide, free

31.
And you, his sister

you who one day

- (that gulf open

since his death

that follows us

to our own -

when we

your mother and I

have vanished there)

must, one day,

unite us all

three in your thoughts,

your memory. . .

-as in

a single tomb

you who, in

turn, will come

upon this tomb, not

made for you -

32.

Sunset

and wind

now vanished, a

wind of nothing

that breathes

(the emptiness

? modern, there)

33.

Tears, flood

of lucidity, the dead

seen again,

beyond

34.

Death - whispers low

- I am no one -

do not even know myself

(for the dead do not

know they're

dead - nor that they're

dying

- children

at least

- or

heroes - sudden

deaths

for my beauty's

made otherwise

of last

moments -

lucidity, beauty

face - of

what would be

I, without I

for as soon as

(one is,

I am -

dead) I cease

to be -

made then of

premonitions, of

intuitions, ultimate

frissons - I

am not -

yet in the ideal

state

and for those

others, tears,

mourning, all that -

and it's my

shade, ignorance

of myself, that

dresses in mourning

35.

Illness to which

one clings

wanting it

to endure, to possess

him longer

36.

Death - ridiculous enemy

- who cannot impose on the child

the notion that you exist!

37.

No more life for

me

and I sense myself

lying there in the grave

beside you.

38.

Death

only consolation

exists, thoughts - balm

but what is done

is done - we cannot

return to the absolute

contained in death -

- and yet

to show that if,

life once abstracted,

the happiness of being

together, all that - such

consolation in its turn

has its root - its base -

absolute - in what

(if we wish

for example a

dead being to live in

us, thought -

is his being, his

thought in effect)

ever he has of the best

that transpires, through our

love and the care

we take

of being -

(being, being

simply moral and

about thought)

there is in that a

magnificent beyond

that rediscovers its

truth - so much

purer and lovelier than

the absolute rupture

of death - become

little by little as illusory

as absolute ( so we're

allowed to seem

to forget the pain)

- as this illusion

of survival in

us, becomes absolutely

illusory - (there is

unreality in both

cases) has been terrible

and true

39.

Earth - you lack

a single plant

- to what purpose -

- I who

honour you -

flowers,

vain beauty

40.

His eyes

watch me, double

and sufficient

- already taken by

absence and the void

all to unite there?