ON THE SHORE

On the beaches of bitter salt

in the harsh vastness of the shore,

I savour, through my nostrils

the odour of iodine from the sea.

What exchanges of naked forces

intersect and insinuate themselves

with collisions, with leaps,

at that hour of monumental life

where all embraces and is transformed:

winds, mountains, waves, skies!

Celebration floods my entire being:

the ardour of the universe

re-animates and penetrates me.

What matter to have suffered,

to have had my heart chafed with the chain

– now here, now gone – of human pain,

what matter! – I feel

my renewed body quiver replete with joy

to be dipped alive and holy

in this vat

of terrific and savage substance.

The rock breaks the wave, the wave wears the rock.

A silence is born: the blows

of mighty thunderclaps shake the cliffs;

a distant island is nourished by the sea

and rises ever more so as the shore sinks.

Bright sun the sand drinks…

– O to return to the dawns of the world –

all is confused, all destroys itself, all is enriched.

In a single second one lives a hundred years.

And what matters this mourning of time:

Death!

Without it

never would eternity appear so fresh;

man who kills and who gives life,

you must learn

to rejoice in death.

Death, life – and their intoxication!

O, all the waves of the ocean…

Sealed coffins, open cradles,

gestures of hope or distress,

limbs naked and bared chests,

I am suddenly, in your rough caress,

possessed with the insane desire

to set off one day, to the very end,

and out there lose myself in your multitude.