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Sad, Jack Spicer, in English Clear filters

SadJack Spicer

Suicide

At ten o'clock in the morning The young man could not remember. His heart was stuffed with dead wings And linen flowers. He is conscious that there is nothing left In his mouth but one word. When he removes his coat soft ashes Fall from his arms. Through the window he sees a tower He sees a window and a tower. His watch has run down in its case He observes the way it was looking at him. He sees his shadow stretched Upon a white silk cushion. And the stiff geometric youngster Shatters the mirror with an ax
SadJack Spicer

Song of Two Windows

Wind, window, moon (I open the window to the sky) Wind, window, moon (I open the window to the earth) Then From the sky The voices of two girls. In the middle of my mirror A girl is drowning The voice of a single girl. She holds cold fire like a glass Each thing she watches Has become double. Cold fire is Cold fire is. In the middle of my mirror
SadJack Spicer

Venus

The dead girl In the winding shell of the bed Naked of the little wind and flowers Surges on into perennial light. The world stayed behind Lily of cotton and shadow. It peeked timidly out of the mirror Looking on at that infinite passage. The dead girl Was eaten from inside by love. In the unyieldingness of seafoam She lost her hair.
SadJack Spicer

Song for September

In the distant night the children are singing: A little river And a colored fountain THE CHILDREN: When will our hearts come back from your holiday? I: When my words no longer need me. THE CHILDREN: You have left us here to sing the death of your summer A little river And a colored fountain What September flowers do you hold in your hand? I: A bloody rose and a white lily. THE CHILDREN: Dip them in the water of an old song A little river And a colored fountain
SadJack Spicer

Narcissus

Poor Narcissus Your dim fragrance And the dim heart of the river I want to stay at your edge Flower of love Poor Narcissus Ripples and sleeping fish Cross your white eyes Songbirds and butterflies Japanese mine I so tall beside you Flower of love Poor Narcissus How wide-awake the frogs are They won't stay out of the surface In which your madness and my madness
SadJack Spicer

The Ballad of the Dead Woodcutter

Because the figtree was sapless It has cracked at the root. Oh, you have fallen down on your head You have fallen on your head. Because the oaktree was rootless It has cracked at the branch. Oh, you have fallen down on your head You have fallen on your head. Because I walked through the branches I have scratched out my heart. Oh, you have fallen down on your head You have fallen on your head.
SadJack Spicer

Juan Ramón Jiménez

In the white endlessness Snow, seaweed, and salt He lost his imagination. The color white. He walks Upon a soundless carpet made Of pigeon feathers. Without eyes or thumbs He suffers a dream not moving But the bones quiver. In the white endlessness How pure and big a wound His imagination left. Snow, seaweed, and salt. Now In the white endlessness.

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