Below the roots of trees, beneath the pillars which bear the cities,
under the lakes in which the tower drowned, we crawl away, nobody
looks at us, no-one sees how we down here disjoin, loose we are loose,
we have lured the beast inside, we have driven it in here, because we hunt,
banish the sun and the door clatters ceaselessly, behind the nine waterfalls
rainbows splash, bell glass under which we were raised, solidified stone
quiet hush and silent journeys, floating the dust of the glowing rock debris
aloft the underground stream, we light the fire, chew on the bones,
fetch the ochre skulls and count how long the time lies unfastened
on the floor, caught in the vaporising steam of cool chalk rooms
marked by icicles walls keep watch over the drawn out rainfall.
Outside the sun convolutes, the waters plunge, fields burn, but we are
averse to light, striking pegs into stone, not climbing but descending
along the lonely ladders, the waterfall of former days leaves the bats
to fly, not one of these black inverted bodies now hangs against
the wet vault of this thousand year old cave, home to the cave bear,
home to the cave elm and aurochs, our catch-cry reverberates hollow
from out the hearth of kin, crawling again on the same knees as they
through almond shaped corridors and wander deep, we go down deep,
we are impaled on splintered stone, we stay unwashed, assuming
the color of stone, there is adequate room to grind the axes, amass
the torches fat, we tan till late, blacking the access with hands
like claws, iron the feathers smooth on our arms and scan the darkness ahead,
we revert time, touch each other and test the cavity behind our tongues
of the age before we spoke.
translation by Julia Hope