Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Hugues C. Pernath

The Ten Poems of Solitude X

I am not sad, no tenderness attracts me,
No body will ever be able to feel mine
No other ear my confusion, my unease
In the speechless torment of language.
Every day more mortally my world contorts
In the fearful ramifications of the pain.
I have borne the very last book, from right to left
And with all my shortcomings it is I who judge
Who is burned and who struggles through the lie.

For nothing other than humility
Than the consummation of doubting,
For nothing else has delimited us.
I will have the light reiterate the darkness,
Rise again from the rock’s inglorious repose
And as the meagre water trickles from my wounds
The night approaching hears my twisting heart.

Nothing engrafted has altered me
No generous past drugged me. No moaning.
These things fell apart, these things went right.
I love, I write and I experience friendship
But as a mason does, free and walled in
I will complete the temple whose last cornerstone
Will signify my end. And in that same word
Expressing all my love, I will live on
In the scourge of those sun-signs where I belong.

De Tien gedichten van de eenzaamheid X

De Tien gedichten van de eenzaamheid X

Ik treur niet, geen tederheid trekt mij aan
Geen lichaam kan ooit het mijne voelen
Geen ander oor mijn verwarring, mijn onrust
In de sprakeloze plaag van de taal.
Dagelijks en dodelijker verkrampt mijn wereld
In de vreselijke vertakkingen van de pijn.
Ik heb het laatste boek gedragen, van rechts naar links
En met al mijn tekortkomingen veroordeel ik
Wie verbrandt en wie poogt door de leugen.

Want anders niets dan de nederigheid
Dan het voltrekken van de twijfel,
Want anders niets heeft ons bepaald.
Ik laat het licht de duisternis herhalen,
Herrijzen uit de roemloze rust van de rots
En terwijl het schrale water uit de wonden sijpelt
Beluistert de nakende nacht mijn schroevend hart.

Geen entstof heeft mij veranderd
Geen vrijgevig verleden mij bedwelmd. Geen smeulen.
Zoveel werd gescheiden, zoveel kwam terecht.
Ik bemin, ik schrijf en onderga de vriendschap
Maar als een metselaar, vrij en ommuurd
Voltooi ik de tempel waarvan de laatste hoeksteen
Mijn einde zal betekenen. En met datzelfde woord
Al mijn liefde verwoordend, leef ik verder
In de gesel van die zonnetekens waartoe ik behoor.
Close

The Ten Poems of Solitude X

I am not sad, no tenderness attracts me,
No body will ever be able to feel mine
No other ear my confusion, my unease
In the speechless torment of language.
Every day more mortally my world contorts
In the fearful ramifications of the pain.
I have borne the very last book, from right to left
And with all my shortcomings it is I who judge
Who is burned and who struggles through the lie.

For nothing other than humility
Than the consummation of doubting,
For nothing else has delimited us.
I will have the light reiterate the darkness,
Rise again from the rock’s inglorious repose
And as the meagre water trickles from my wounds
The night approaching hears my twisting heart.

Nothing engrafted has altered me
No generous past drugged me. No moaning.
These things fell apart, these things went right.
I love, I write and I experience friendship
But as a mason does, free and walled in
I will complete the temple whose last cornerstone
Will signify my end. And in that same word
Expressing all my love, I will live on
In the scourge of those sun-signs where I belong.

The Ten Poems of Solitude X

I am not sad, no tenderness attracts me,
No body will ever be able to feel mine
No other ear my confusion, my unease
In the speechless torment of language.
Every day more mortally my world contorts
In the fearful ramifications of the pain.
I have borne the very last book, from right to left
And with all my shortcomings it is I who judge
Who is burned and who struggles through the lie.

For nothing other than humility
Than the consummation of doubting,
For nothing else has delimited us.
I will have the light reiterate the darkness,
Rise again from the rock’s inglorious repose
And as the meagre water trickles from my wounds
The night approaching hears my twisting heart.

Nothing engrafted has altered me
No generous past drugged me. No moaning.
These things fell apart, these things went right.
I love, I write and I experience friendship
But as a mason does, free and walled in
I will complete the temple whose last cornerstone
Will signify my end. And in that same word
Expressing all my love, I will live on
In the scourge of those sun-signs where I belong.
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