The season finally slumps
and in the tender light behind the pane,
tired glances over swirling glasses-
couples pretend worlds
from their worn leather couches,
and fade away on a warm brass note.
A dark sun
at its highest peak
pounds at the wake
of men-
they lie there
blind and breathless,
bored forever
in its quiet warmth.
//
Un soleil sombre
à son plus haut sommet
martèle les hommes délurés-
Ils s'abandonnent,
aveugles et essoufflés,
à jamais ennuyés
dans sa quiète chaleur.
Better than the lonely hum of a plane
is the soft haunting tremor of the ship itself;
Sometimes in bed, with earplugs on,
the jaw forced into a hard position
rushing blood through my head,
I imitate the comforting white noise of the sky.