20- You are the death of a tree скачать в хорошем качестве

20- You are the death of a tree

We meet again, at last,old friend of silence, old mate of dry ink, of wilted youth. I open your yellowed pages where prose still sleeps, and my words of yesterday breathe beneath the ashes... I know it’s no longer time, I know the hour has passed, but the sea still calls me from the edge of my fatigue. One day I’ll go to die in her mouth of salt and foam, when your pages turn to seaweed or to mist... Her?... Do you remember?The one they called Star, her green eyes of alfalfa where our dreams got lost. Damn life ! Tell her we only wanted to wrinkle, to wrinkle old and easy, our foreheads pressed to window glass. Hello, old companion, you see, I made it through! And I dust your cover with my trembling eyes. Do you remember the nights of cruelty, and that bottle within reach of suicide?.. Today, a name... Tomorrow? Who knows. Maybe nothing more than a mirror. Maybe nothing more than the tenderness of dogs. Maybe nothing more than the presence of the void... Lift your leafy hands and tear the dark apart. let a nocturnal rainbow burst from boredom... No more plants, no more booze you and me, face to face... Me, the man — you, his delirium. Face to face... for the duel. Remember, old friend, your youth in shadow, our youth in the shade of that Siamese feeling... Time shifts its course, yes, I know. I am no longer twenty, nor thirty, nor forty for that matter. A thousand years of solitude nest in my guts, and the anthropology of our undone hair... What a punch to the soul ! You are still the same. But I no longer know how to write, I no longer know how to dream. I need to scream but my throat is stone, and I’ve too much to say to fit in a single cry... Listen to the waves a little ; it’s childhood coming back. It rises... the sea... like a voice of foam. Scream? For whom? For what?... I’m only the ghost of an unfinished brother I carry in my bones. The ocean... The night... The stars... Same weary stage, utopian, immutable. Same land of shadow, of frost... I opened the bed, and slipped into the sheets of absence... To be... Alone... The only possible being. Sad, certainly but who cares! You rang the alarm, and I open my veins... Go figure!!! Old yellowed friend, like a wounded bird, a gulp of childhood rises to my nostrils. No more laughter, no more words, just a rain of nothingness, and the sound of footsteps on rusted dreams. They called me armor, shield... you want to laugh?! I was already nothing, and little has changed. Wind, nothing but wind, a fleeting breath, like the laughter of ferns,the astonishment of chickadees. You are the death of a tree but we’re all the death of someone, or something, aren’t we? So I forgive you, and I listen to your forest dream. I give you back leaves, fruits, a trunk, roots... And mine, my roots!!! I don’t know... You, maybe. you, within reach of hand and whisper. What an amnesiac I’ve become! You... you’re not even here. So far away — your roots? You found them again! Last parenthesis of infinite tenderness. Our torrid caresses, the fusion of our beings, the storms we crossed, the victories, the smiles... A faint scent of Asia — my most beautiful adventure, my deepest wound, my most beautiful scar... We are all the death of someone, or something... I am the death of a star, but best not let that be known, so... So I keep quiet, and no longer wound the ones I turn my back on. To find Silence again — to be nothing but its echo... To be born no more, but echo only.