time is an insurmountable hill

Autumn Bellan

I count in French when I can no longer bear to in English 
eighty becomes quatre-vingt and all of the sudden
four twenties seem a little more manageable 

cinquante-six is almost sixty but I prefer to say cinquante-dix
this ticking time is transforming me into Sisyphus as I slide on the hill of progress
with a mass of days passed on my shoulders and the sweat of hope dripping into my heart 

I always struggle to seize my emotions in the soft flesh of my hands
to slant the tip of my index finger towards each one and assign names I recognize
and I wonder if without you here these unrecognizable, unnameable illusions 
would be like the numbers, more manageable in a language foreign to you 
serait comme les nombres, plus gérable dans une langue étrangère à vous

can I tell you what I am afraid to, what goes unsaid?
puis-je te dire ce que j'ai peur, ce qui n'est pas dit?

I miss you.   
tu me manques.

this translates to you are missing from me and this load is somehow lighter
for the way it wraps you tu and to miss manquer around me me as if just maybe 
you have a stake in this missing too and I do not climb this hill, carry this weight alone

I am scared to lose you and I am terrified it will be my fault. 
j'ai peur de te perdre et je suis terrifié que ce soit ma faute.

you see, je te perds wraps me je and to lose perdre around you te except you 
would not be there to help carry this boulder, to wait for me on the other side of this hill
so instead I would no longer be Sisyphus but a lost soul swimming in the Acheron

you are my rock, my insurmountable hill, my greatest ambition
tu es mon rocher, ma colline insurmontable, ma plus grande ambition
and without you I am in hell.
et sans toi je suis en enfer.

si je perds mon rocher, je n’en chercherai jamais un autre.
if I lose my rock, I will never look for another.