Bloomy Days

I thank the mysterious
mercy of everything holy
that put you on my path.
We could go on together
and see what lies
ahead, going forward hand
in hand, mouth to mouth,
joined by the guts,
the memory, drinking a toast
to the offered future.
I am grateful for the flood
of Yes. No place for fear
in the sudden paradise
fed by tenderness.
I want to wash you, brush your hair,
and I will not dry you. I want
you to lay over me,
to drench me, to melt me
and sink me into the purity
of your desire. I am ill with this,
I accept it. You call, I answer.
I didn’t know until you went away,
nor now that you are gone,
how much you had wanted to see,
how much remained to be said.

Last night when your wise understanding
of the explosion I tried to
deny stopped me, you asked me
if something was missing. You,
I said. I look for you under
this winter sky,
I wake up, pronouncing
our fragile language,
our own tongue, words
sunk in the bones,
salt that dyes my mouth
with traces of your absence.
I flew by night and was afraid
not to find you. I miss your light,
your look that saves and heals.
I have a beard now, I warn you.
I am filled with knowing you
and I want you to know it.
I breathe with you. I safeguard
the caresses you gave me
and will return them
when the time comes.

I don’t know where it comes from
this haze, this look
of an eye for an eye, this upper
lip. I still can't think
of another music, I keep missing
the shade of your eyelids.
I can even smell you. I close the curtains
to see what you left.
I let go of questions, answers.
In vain I try to heal doubts
pretending they don’t matter.
Your body is my world,
it's all I see. I want to be
your sun, and to set
in your shoulders, to feel
you close your eyes in the nest
of our rest. I worship
the beat of your heart,
this current of blood
that guides the compass
of my damaged walk. There remain
embers of unexpected
insomnia. I remember without fault,
without sorrow, without end the beauty
of the surprise, the moon not quite
full, cold knees
useless suitcase, photos
and phrases hung onto the mirror,
mute alarm clock, nose
against sheet. Your body is
my world. Let my life end
with a kiss like these.

————————————————

最后Viggo又引用了普鲁斯特的诗句作为注脚：

Il y a des moments de la vie ou une sorte de beauté naît ?
de la multiplicité des ennuis qui nous assaillent.

 -Marcel Proust