Friday, August 31, 2012

Suzy Mee

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."

--Suzy Mee

fr. Sumac Vol. II, Nos. 2 & 3 -- Winter/Spring 1970


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