Then I, too, feel beaten by all that distance and fatally as though pressed by the plaster hand of some inexorable ghost who would wake me, I fold beneath the contractions of an imminent birth…. The great metaphysical paintings go then, the hermetic visions fitted to suit the populous cities of faraway continents. But then as centuries will have followed centuries and the new mechanics will have woven new laces of metal, sketched out new complications for the ossified exhaustion of the dead planet, my name, murmured within tribes chosen by the future, will be the sweetest emotion to the brother who I will never know but who will carry stamped in his eyes that strange and tremendous longing that in this faraway today burns my heart and brain, and shakes my weary body with rape, and across all my flesh darkens my veins with a blood pregnant with bile and tears.
Che fanno essi mentre non li vedo? Mentre il sipario immobile della parete resta calato tra loro e me?
Nessuno potrebbe dirmelo. Vere nature morte.
Stefania Heim received a translation fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts for her work on Giorgio de Chirico. She lives in Washington. Excerpted from Geometry of Shadows by Giorgio de Chirico.
Used with permission of Public Space Books. Created by Grove Atlantic and Electric Literature. In the anteroom the revenants crowd. This is intimidating for fellow poets but absolutely fantastic for readers.
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