You Come To Me
‘Ars est recta ratio factibilium’
‘Art is right reason about certain works to be made’
St Thomas Aquinas
You come to me in the evening, dream in dream,
A delicate flower in your hand,
Whom silence has rendered too transparent,
Your eyes, a wound within a wound,
Full of gracious words,
Your pupils sparkling with the sky
Of a very ancient sorrow!
And nothing in the garden moves between
The song of the robins
And the fragile almost noiseless rustling of the flowers!
Invisible spirits, smiling at time
As if they preceded time,
Bend over my poem
With a solicitude so intense
That they make the silken stanzas shudder!
Someone in the twilight,
Repeats, with a Chaldean incantation,
Resonant because of too much silence,
Your name redolent of Irish bindweed ,
Your Celtic name,
Fine as the smile of a sea nymph
Floating on the foam
Of the swooning day!
Waters of a glance, where
My fingers, attentive
To the brightness of vowels, search out
The key to your irresistible
Translated by Norton Hodges