JOHN CROFT MALÉDICTIONS D'UNE FURIE

the lunacy of waves created
by chariots grating across the sky,
earth, ocean, azure, abyss,
stars, stars, stardust, ah! deluge, ah! delirium, ah!
ah, a-ay, a-ee, a-heee,
I CURSE YOU, UNFATHOMABLE TIME! …
She stops as if bewildered. Then resumes, still panting for breath, in a lower voice.
I curse you, unfathomable and monotonous time,
for this I seep out from the shadows,
Out of myself, black and white like the smoke of sacri�ce,
I curse you, foster-father of the rounded centuries,
an emperor one foot placed upon the globe,
silence full of cries of agony,
a silence worthy of you, of your immemorial aloofness,
but uproar and thunder, sobs and howling when one listens closely,
I curse you, Chronos, Father and Devourer of all that is,
with your grisly maw dripping with the blood of your children
topped by crazy eyes under bushy brows,
I curse the stream of creatures in your mouth,
and in your head the senseless whirling of all things
cavorting in a wild cruel dance of death under your mocking gaze! …
Her whole body shudders as she utters “gaze”, and she arches her back as if in ecstasy or death-
throes. Then she suddenly pulls herself together and stands straight, becoming majestic, almost
human, with slow and solemn delivery.
My laughter joins with yours. A laugh of fear, shame, and disgust.
For the endless sacri�ce of living beings is pointless and derisory.
The thick stream of universal su�ering pours into the abyss
from your abominable urn, but never �oods the deserts of space.
One more drop of sacri�cial blood never over�lls your trembling cup.
Translation Copyright © Colin Duckworth 2009