temporary imponderability

Nichita Stãnescu
The ascension of words

Thus, like the skin
of a shorn ewe, the day rises.

It is difficult to skin the self off a stone.
It is difficult to skin memory off a Greek.

But why should we talk about these!
After all,
light too has a skin,
light too can be skinned...
light too is guilty of being.

A gust of fresh air
comes with the millenium.
We are beautiful;
why should we not be beautiful?

We eat one another
only for hunger,
for adoration,
for structure,
for love.
It doesn't matter.
We are what we are,
that is, beautiful.

I carry my ever still blood
in my heart.
I carry my ever salt tear
in my eye.

I carry the angel in the middle of heaven.