Translation Sans Original*

Nick Piombino


You think I'm too old
Or too slow
To notice the sun is tapering off
You think I'm too silent
Or too dense
To find the whirling planets dull
And academically repetitive
For me day is easy
And night is easier still
For me sleep is a page in a book
I still haven't read
Can't you brush against words
Instead of demanding their participation
And telling them to grow up and settle down?
Don't you understand
That language is young and doesn't know yet
In whose tongue to speak?
Tell your friends that speech
Has no nation
That the crown is an umbrella
For paragraphs.
Walk around this spacious world
With things left over
From this morning.
Be transparent.
Let living stammer


*This poem originally appeared on fait accompli. It has been reprinted with the permission of its author.


Copyright 2003 Nick Piombino