NIGHT TIME

(I was really, completely sure: the sky appeared in the cauldron, with the sun and all the stars –
the calculations, however, were hasty –
I ran to the edge of the world and stared at nothingness –
I’m coming back now, less briskly –
in the cauldron is still the sky, with the sun and all the stars)

warrior princess

light and bright
this armour was made
by sun-smiths
lighter and brighter I was
wearing it –
now shabby and fissured
crushed for the disposal
it still gives me shape

for when I strip
I’ll turn into a stain
spread through the town,
with thousand hands
to bring
and make
and buy the day
insipidly planned
in a hurry

cathars’ song

you will not kill
not even when the blades turn against your body –
only the water-creatures, unborn flowers of the sea
you may pick at will

you will not judge –
anyone, anything, ever, at all
you won’t sad: well done, poorly chosen
rightful, selfish, mean or noble –
ruddy, rosy, red
you may call the invisible

you won’t take oaths: promise nothing, bind yourself to nothing –
contracts, letters, projects, travel orders
reports you shall not –
contract marriages nor alliances
you’ll work with no master live
off your hands in a house
with no locks –

only then you may take

the name of a weaver

on a balcony

like
the cat
on the pole that keeps the cloth-line
high above the abyss:
smooth
supple
neat
confident –

although
the possibility
of a fall
is equally real
as the absence
of fear

(from the book Night Time, translated by the author)