an older new day

2009-01-09 | 4:00 p.m.

i was contented with blithe elation
and was altogether willing to cry.
dans le m�lange, was an affectation
for a ravenous need to feel alive.
nevertheless, that yearning has now escaped
as my blood has converted to lead.
my heart, in its new labor, has been reshaped;
sans objet, it has rendered me dead.
how bittersweet for the joy and the sting
of life to recourse unto death
for in sleep there is no ardor to sing
and death's dirge requires no breath.

no more trembles of bliss
and yet neither shall i weep uncomposed
no sacrifice is this
parce que, mon coeur, je ne sens pas une chose.

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