Liberty

On my school notebooks On my desk and on the trees On the sands of snow I write your name On the pages I have read On all the white pages Stone, blood, paper or ash I write your name On the images of gold On the weapons of the warriors On the crown of the king I write your name On the jungle and the desert On the nest and on the brier On the echo of my childhood I write your name On all my scarves of blue On the moist sunlit swamps On the living lake of moonlight I write your name On the fields, on the horizon On the birds’ wings And on the mill of shadows I write your name On each whiff of daybreak On the sea, on the boats On the demented mountaintop I write your name On the froth of the cloud On the sweat of the storm On the dense rain and the flat I write your name On the flickering figures On the bells of colors On the natural truth I write your name On the high paths On the deployed routes On the crowd-thronged square I write your name On the lamp which is lit On the lamp which isn’t On my reunited thoughts I write your name On a fruit cut in two Of my mirror and my chamber On my bed, an empty shell I write your name On my dog, greathearted and greedy On his pricked-up ears On his blundering paws I write your name On the latch of my door On those familiar objects On the torrents of a good fire I write your name On the harmony of the flesh On the faces of my friends On each outstretched hand I write your name On the window of surprises On a pair of expectant lips In a state far deeper than silence I write your name On my crumbled hiding-places On my sunken lighthouses On my walls and my ennui I write your name On abstraction without desire On naked solitude On the marches of death I write your name And for the want of a word I renew my life For I was born to know you To name you Liberty.