Superb spectacles

You hear God—hardly
nonetheless there were certain facts:
Six, seven...

Survey the damage. Take care of your hair.
Whisperings write on the sand in curious characters.

How goes it with yours?
your boys? your girls?
How goes it with the stars' cheeks pearling at the
window
but especially the incorruptible eyes
of children with open hands?

In a few years the world will swallow
superb spectacles

My dead are not dead
they will never die
I have something like a foreboding...

What complex and futile calligraphy
the double game on the eggs.

Ion Caraion
tr. after the French of Danielle Obadia