That space, that garden
from part IX [concluding passage of the poem]
That graspable core/essence [i.e. solid part; lit. meaning is marrow/brains] of crowded tenderness
that slim
back/reverse side
The dead also return there.
From there they watch us; they reflect us. They skirt round us
to see.
They join
the light of time, the open, incessant dwelling-places
of time, its entwined [i.e. worked into a framework or network] happening/occurrence,
its overflowing resonances/echoes in the zenith
of a nakedness/bareness reached/achieved: this pleasure that returns,
bright/clean/clear/pure.
This radiant
mirth. This laughter that founds
and its fissure.
- Like a spring [i.e. fountain; also seam of rock/mineral], an amulet/charm. The hidden
fountain
of a garden.
This small garden/orchard, this sudden impulse/rapture
that we inherit
like an open melody amid the night, like a glimmer,
a question,
this body.
* and its thirst.
- From there they talk to us,
from there they call us, as in dreams.
From one dream to another
they carry us.
From one dream to another they trace/draw us, they reveal us/allow us to be seen.
Like extremely faint features in a landscape.
Like breaths. From one dream to another we look for
solidity: this fire that binds, that endures.
This passion that takes root,
that snatches away, and its uncentred counterpoint,
this feeling that engenders.
They join together
the light of time, the open, incessant dwelling-places
of time, their surmountable labyrinths, their comprehensible [lit. ‘embraceable']
happening:
This breath,
this sap that founds, that reveals, that covers us
like a swell [i.e. of the sea],
like a chord/harmony. These intimate outlines/forms.
- A momentary turn/gyration of glass. - An edge of light.
A texture. A word.
- Because death has
in the abundant/overflowing heart of life
its apexes/tops rooted,
and in them it burns
in them it yields, in them it joins
this thickness/density.