To Die of Love
A tree
A verse
A dove
From love I am trembling
and I am cold
crazy cold with anguish and joys.
The dying
little by little
makes me sick.
Exile!
I want to die
all of a sudden
Zaz!
so suddenly
to feel the impact
of my body in battle
against yankee fire.
To feel, then, nothing more—
Dream
of the fertile land
Dream
of life at play
Dream
of peace.
A Question of Life
Death
ambushes at every corner
and at times
brute sentiment
and rage
distend my heart
like a stretch sock.
Between life
and death
is an ongoing battle.
One is like an old shoe
and the other like a bare foot.
At times I like dry flowers more
than the fresh-cut
and at times death,
it seems fruitless,
and, life so alone.