Walking Horizon
Translated By Heather Green
then the clouds rolled in
young is the night that is to say
a cellophane softness ensued
which blew across the sky like wisps of straw
their firearms—a job well done
young is the night
and when the circus tent begins to blaze
beneath the eyes speak no more of the delicate acrobat
young is the night that is to say
the blind snails sniffing in pairs
went off to fields in search of worthless graves
forgotten in the bones of forgetting
that is to say
wasn’t it only the pride of the night that mattered
to the charcoal silences to the forests traveled
the spurs of thorns that is to say
that douse against the tree the roads' monotony
young is the night
stuff chimneys of ships with roads
hands over hands open flames
braid the universe of eyes
young is the night hammered with firebrands
words cloud the face in ash
once the somersault sun ceases to know itself
dragged kicking and screaming
short horses you’ve become roads
and so along whole horizons armed with new zoologies
tender waters are reborn in spasms of stone thoughts
the circus winnowing the grimaces of memory
Copyright Credit: Tristan Tzara, "Walking Horizon" from Noontimes Won. Copyright © 2018 by Tristan Tzara, Heather Green. Reprinted by permission of Heather Green.
Source: Noontimes Won (Octopus Books, 2018)