Concerto for Voice and Sky  

1

Adagio

The January frost gnaws at the ribs of the house.

Snow in fat clumps is falling

on the crossroads, on the pulsating traffic lights,

on the waiting cars, on the bare branches,

on the bird-feeder, on the back of your neck when

you step onto the balcony, to mix

your pain into carefully measured syllables,

which will swirl in the river of your conversation

like snowflakes into a cone of light.

2

Allegro misterioso

Do the mountains settle on your breast like

shadows on an X-ray, or do they bury

the breath of those who fall,

fall into themselves fall through the hours,

which drag on as everything stands, fall

through the days, which are all the same to them—

they expect nobody in particular,

they fall into the pauses in the conversation,

they fall like snow onto the bare earth,

in which they remain lying, denuded of life.

3

Andante

When on the Milky Way the stars stroll

along in pairs they interpret

the future in an impeccable formation:

how long will the New Year’s cold make

you grit your teeth, when will the snowmen

melt to their roots, where will the rivers flood into

the cellar, who will merge with the darkness,

whom will the sky bring back into your arms.

What do you carry within you, how much breath, how

many heartbeats, how many words, before you,

snowflake, land on the flesh of the world.