His barely recognizable corpse
had gone through
the passage rites
of propriety,
the grandiloquence
of motionlessness.
But this was not
the void,
though his face
had shut itself
behind a membrane
of foreignness.
Each one
in his solitude
expressed himself,
surveying him relentlessly.
What a strange planet
he had become!
We could not withstand
the fascination.
The main thing was to stand still,
faithful to his silence.
Total absence
was close by.
(The poetry collection Hours was translated by Antonio d’Alfonso)