Conquered treasure

All fingers have open eyes
but only the hands
hold memory
only the hands
of the implausible moment
lips and tombs watch
open to the sky
and calling.

I know
in the bosom of the unforeseeable
a tree under which all that is born of you
has loved you for twenty years

Nothing is more precious to me than the blood of a
people.

Ion Caraion
tr. after the French of Jean Malrieu