I have nothing left to translate

“An outstretched hand…”
From Fragment to Fragmentary
Leslie Hill

A hand outstretched, refused, which in whatever manner we would not be able to grasp. [Une main qui se tend, qui se refuse, que de toute manière nous ne pourrions saisir.]
Blanchot, Le Pas au-delà
A hand, perhaps yours or mine, hers or his, extends itself or is ex-tended, and reaches out. In that selfsame gesture, or shortly after, it with-draws, retreats, and resists. Not given, not taken: the hand, it seems, has always already eluded our grip.
But what is at stake in this meeting or missed encounter, this contact or loss of contact between one hand and another?

In other words, what is the reach . the extent, import, and address . of the gesture described and enacted by Blanchot.s fragmentary words? And what is it that Blanchot hands on to us, his readers, or down to us, who are last to speak? But who are we?















I have nothing left to translate
Into the figures of night
Or the pale geometry
Of the fire-birds.
If I once had a wagon of lights to ride in
The axle is broken
The horses are shot.
T. Merton