Matins

I live here even if I don't want to
even if the man next door doubts it
even if from home I have only my childhood left.
Here I have seen my body undress on its own
as a first gesture of evolution.

Early, when the church raises its song, 
I let my feet fall on the window as a façade 
and the years fall on my back like an inert body.

Together we listen to the insistence of life.

Within these walls I sleep alone
I eat and discuss alone
in my nightmares it is I 
who takes care of the mother
and to the echo of the bells
my voice answers: 

Waiting is unconscionable
waiting is a farce.

(Translated version)