The Illustrated World
Just like your nonexistent window
Like a hand shadow on a ghost instrument
Just like the veins and the intense circuit of your blood
With the same equality with the precious continuity that
ideally assures me of your existence
At a distance
At the distance
Despite the distance
With your forehead and your face
And your entire presence without closing your eyes
And the landscape born of your presence when the city
wasn’t, couldn’t help being the useless reflex of your
catastrophe presence
To better wet the bird feathers
This rain falling from high above
And it locks me alone inside you
Inside and far from you
Like a road getting lost in another continent
{ César Moro | Peru, 1903-1956 }
1 comment:
Thank you for this translation. I see the metaphor of the window used constantly in poems that seek to create a divide between the poet's world and the reader's world to the affect where the living world becomes nothing more than a guarded display in an exclusive museum. (Good example can be found here.)
A poem like this, one that smashes the window and interlaces poet, reader, and environment is more of what the world needs.
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