[Translated from the French]
How the gods beguile hurt;
I know there’s someone else, surely—
Someone worth their charity;
How the earth seems styled—
Formed—to perform indecency;
How pain is paint on the face of despair.
I know sometimes someone isn’t fair;
Love’s layered in veils,
Each tale a tear trampling our stares;
How life lecherously levels its feel,
Plays with a goal to steal;
How bright our world burns until
I glow but am not seen.
“Someone” seems an obscure
Word to draw from my well
When the ink’s returned to its shell;
Purple creatures usurp all our hurts,
Blaming the poet for their wounds.
How a name becomes a thorn
To someone unknown…
Now, I’m a vow unsworn.