Translated by Wayne Chambliss

At Padua, they said, the friends,

"I knew him also."

Nearby, the grumble of dirty water,

of a dirty factory:

stupendous in the silence.

Because it was night. "I

knew him also."

Sharpening the thought

of you who are now

neither subject nor object,

neither plain speech nor jargon,

neither quiescence nor motion,

nor even that

for which my eyes

have threaded the eyes of needles,

negating you not


So be it: still I

believe with as much conviction

in all my nothingness.

That is why I haven't lost you.

Or rather, that the more of you I lose, the more you lose yourself,

the more alike we are, the closer we become.

—translated from the Italian by Wayne Chambliss

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