It's been more than a year now since I stopped thinking about You
Since I wrote my next-to-last poem "Easter"
My life has changed a lot since
But I'm still the same
I've even wanted to become a painter
Here are the pictures I've done and which hang on the walls tonight
For me they open strange views onto myself which make me think
That's what I've ransacked
My paintings hurt me
I'm too passionate
Everything is oranged up.
I spent a sad day thinking about my friends
And reading the paper
Life crucified in the wide-open paper I hold at arm's length
You'd think an airplane is dropping.
It's useless not wanting to talk about yourself
You have to cry out sometimes
I'm the other one
tr. Ron Padgett
fr. "Nineteen Elastic Poems" (1919)
in Blaise Cendrars: Complete Poems
[Berkeley, Calif.: Univ. of California Press, 1992]