FATE IS AN EMPTY POCKET

rolling hills
sleepy plains
silent mountains

I don’t know where I stand—
but in the middle of a river, maybe

I am, I find myself unable to articulate my thoughts
to put words,
to choose the right words

rolling hills
sleepy plains
why are the mountains silent?

I went to Paris to get a job
and I got it.

Soon I shall be going to Congo
To study… ha! ha! ha! I should have been a doctor;
Then I will be going to Russia, Moscow

rolling pills
sleepy plains
I have been a mountain

four years, four years I spent unemployed
Because of my own decision…
I didn’t want to work

I had hopes
I thought… what did I think?

depressing pills
sleeping at certain hours
to avoid… a certain pain

a volcano stands there in Congo
They told me there is a forest
I wonder what plants grow there

militias, armed men
They rape women – all of them

what pills will I need
That’s not important
The volcano could drive me crazy, mad, insane

Hypnotized by a mountain
Shit.
What’s happening to me? is not important

eyes
many eyes – what is, is

I was never a poet. No
My English is, is

too old am I, yes, no
I am only forty, already, oh! I found a white hair

on my chest
Silver. Old. Monkey. Mountain.

Russia, after Congo, after France, after Armenia,
after Canada, after so many countries

here fascism. I never gave you the full story
Bah! There is nothing to say

although I did speak – today I spoke
for two hours, I explained everything

good people listened to me, my words
Monkeys, mountains, plains, rivers

Rivers of words
Rivers of words

I bought books in Paris, yes, yes
I allowed myself that luxury

Anthologies – Yiddish poems, poems by Darwish
and poems from a group of French poets, LE GRAND JEU

and words, hills of words by Cesare Pavese –
Travailler fatigue (To work is tiring)
La mort viendra… (Death will come…)
et elle aura tes yeux (and she will have your eyes)


Le jour sera tranquille, froidement lumineux
Comme le soleil qui naît ou qui meurt
Et la vitre hors du ciel retiendra l'air souillé.
--LE PARADIS SUR LES TOITS

last month I couldn’t speak
because I was convinced that my words were read
by the wrong people – here, in Armenia

in Paris I could not speak
because I could not afford the fuckin’ Internet –
I had no time, and to work is tiring

right now I can not speak – again,
I cannot tell you – because, I cannot even tell you why –
Congo, then Russia, then…

fate
fate is an empty pocket. Woods. Silence. A river?

fate is just a word
Who is afraid of words ?

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Tulips by reading_is_dangerous] (April 10, 2008)

"The secret of happiness is freedom, and the secret of freedom, courage."
Thucydides (B.C. 460-400)