Home » new poems

The Cast Iron of the Years

By (July 1, 2009) No Comment

translated by Heather Green


and just like that overnight
the nights too stretch themselves into all the corners
of crude lonelinesses and the nights
parallel the crosssroads in the stone

do not touch stars
these are the nettles
where our words are
the doors mislay themselves

it’s bright in the madhouse
every hour has mildewed
a lone sound from time to time
resembles your path

a lone woman still rises
to the voice that built us
that took us one and then another
by the hand one cool garden day


a joy a future
everything is spoken on the branch
the rocking steals
your smile blown like the wind

the clearest eyes and the days of blood
when i open the mouth you speak
and the same is sung much higher
where you don’t arrive to drink

laugh laugh in the earth
a childhood to distract the woods
and the mute girls trust
in those who drowned your mouth for me

Heather Green’s poems have appeared in or are forthcoming from Tarpaulin Sky, Denver Quarterly, and The Hat. Her reviews have appeared in Octopus magazine, and her chapbook, The Match Array, is available from Dancing Girl Press.

Tristan Tzara (1896-1963) best known as the father of Dada, was a Romanian-born poet, playwright, performer, and critic who lived in Paris for most of his life. These poems are from a series included in the book Oú boivent les loups (Where the Wolves Drink) which was written in French and originally published in 1932.

Join the Open Letters facebook page!

Return to the Main Page


Leave a comment!

Add your comment below, or trackback from your own site. You can also Comments Feed via RSS.

Be nice. Keep it clean. Stay on topic. No spam.

You can use these tags:
<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

This is a Gravatar-enabled weblog. To get your own globally-recognized-avatar, please register at Gravatar.