I Raise My Glass
I raise my glass.
In my colourless wine,
gallops the verse.
It seeks the region of the sublime,
but collides with the fatal
limit of poetry,
and the glass shatters,
spilling the wine.
My dream remains
still austere.
The memory
of your absence
breaks in me.
. . . and I drink.
Norberto Pannone, Argentina
Translated by Germain Droogenbroodt – Stanley Barkan
