Song of Madness, Francisco Matos Paoli

I’ve had this poem framed on wall forever.   It’s such a BEAUTIFUL poem, I love it.  It’s by Francisco Matos Paoli, translated by Frances R. Aparicio.  It’s from Paoli’s book SONG OF MADNESS which I strongly urge you to find.  It’s incredible, and it as both English and Spanish versions of the poem).   Here it is: (I don’t have a title)

There is a soft nest, a point of contact

between roses and stars:

perhaps it is the gratuitous acts of man,

the fruitful acceleration of the world,

the flesh revived

in bloody farewells.

 

I know that paleness deceives

and brutality cheats:

a star to wake us up,

a rose for sleeping,

a star for us to sing by

enraptured by unredeemed centuries;

deprived of all roads, a rose for falling

into the ripe sphere.

 

And all is reduced

to a natural, dazzling whiteness that

wears away if we look at it attentively,

possessed by reality, insane

from remaining.

 

We must return to innocence,

create from nothingness,

survive on a thread,

overthrow burning fists

at sunset,

until the rose becomes a star,

until the star becomes a rose.