Translation:The Black Heralds (1918)/Unity
For works with similar titles, see Unity.
Tonight my clock is gasping
next to my darkened temple, like
the apple of a revolver that turns over
beneath the trigger without finding the bullet.
The white moon, immobile, is filled with tears
and it’s an eye that aims... And I feel as if
the great Mystery manifests itself in a hostile and ovoid
idea, in a bright red bullet.
Oh, hand that limits, that breathes
behind all the doors, and that gives life
to all the clocks, yield and go on your way!
Over the gray spider of your frame,
another great Hand made of light bears the weight of
a bullet in the blue shape of a heart.