All these dead
who slowly slip out of our lives
what have we offered them in all this time
words too unraveled to give birth to the poem
words held back by regret or that fear
suspended before our eyes
since the dawn of time as the old saying goes
words whose usage becomes obscure to us
we ask ourselves sometimes about the celebration
their splendor fails to illuminate our strange desire for memory
Тranslated by Marilyn Hacker
EN 
MK