Translating myself into English:
meaning, of course, suffer in a strange tongue,
grow bitter, exacerbating,
where they should be lyrical.
In my own language,
the language of infantilism,
a cry is not taken so seriously:
anguish means, rather, . . . impatience,
as "darkness" mean "mother," "water: . . "dream"
and so on. Joy is what
I am waiting for someone to give me.
A wound is a dry mouth.
I would tell you more
but before distance recedes further,
remember: the operative words
are "angel" and "white horse."
fr. Sumac Vol. II, Nos. 2 & 3 -- Winter/Spring 1970