The Art of Poetry
I don’t speak for myself.
I don’t speak in my own name.
It’s not about me.
I am nothing but
a little life, a lot of pride.
I speak for all that is,
for what has form and no form.
I speak for what weighs heavily
and what is weightless.
I know everything around me
wants to go further, to live more fully,
to die more deeply,
if dying must be done.
So don’t think you hear within you
my words, my voice.
It is the voice of the present moving toward the future,
a voice approaching from beneath your own skin.
Translated from French by Paul Weinfield, © 2016
Photo by Robert and Shana Parkeharrison