THE SPEECH OF THE RUINS

 

On the ruins and on the tombs

the flowers sway like some flags

measure of all things the man

sad measure was thrown in chains

in silence, in death, by a power

that changed nothing but the stage.

Nonetheless no friendly hand

stretches forth even the dinosaur

from inside the man asks for help

and he doesn’t know where to search for it.

The Maker breathed us out in front

of poisonous steam as it seems

so that He incite us in crime. We should

have been lied to! Should the mercy

have been the source of death, should

we have been fed on lie? Then the forgiveness

then the oblivion. And let’s set out

on the path of the serpent. The new

hour is on the point of blowing up

like a nuclear bomb in her silence

all the gnashing of teeth, the whistles

of the fire and of the artillery shells,

the plague-stricken sobs calm down.

All the memories fall apart, the acts

of repentance the acts of revenge run away.

The fizz of the nuclear bomb fills the bones

with fear as if we haven’t always relied on this.  

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