I Dreamed I Already

I dreamed I already loved you. I dreamed I already killed you. But you rose again; another form, but you, a girl on the little ball of the earth, naive simplicity, curve-necked on that early canvas of Picasso, and prayed to me with your ribs: 'Love me, ' as though you said, 'Don't push me off.' I'm that played-out, grown-up acrobat, hunchbacked with senseless muscles, who knows that advice is a lie, that sooner or later there's falling. I'm too scared to say: 'I love you, ' because I'd be saying: 'I'll kill you.' For in the depths of a face I can see through I see the faces-can't count them- that, right on the spot, or maybe not right away, I tortured to death. You're pale from the mortal balance. You say: 'I know everything; I was all of them. I know you've already loved me. I know you've already killed me. But I won't spin the globe backwards: Love again, and then kill again.' Lord, you're young. Stop your globe. I'm tired of killing. I'm not a damn thing but old. You move the earth beneath your little feet, you fall, 'Love me.' It's only in those eyes, so similar, you say: 'This time don't kill me! ' 1967 Translated by James Dickey with Anthony Kahn (revised)