Pude ser incendio, liebre entre pastos.
No. Un relámpago gobierna,
determina, pega por el borde
las páginas del Libro.
Cada cual con su sombra y su peso.
Pude ser árbol, Tarot, fruta.
No. Agua gris,
lenta, antigua. El mundo
se moja. Líquido sin forma,
ni extensión, ni consigna. |
|
I could have been fire, a hare in the fields.
No. A flash of lightning governs,
determines, glues by the edge
the pages of the Book.
Each one with its shadow and its weight.
I could have been a tree, Tarot, a fruit.
No. Grey water,
slow, ancient. The world
gets wet. Liquid without form,
nor extension, nor direction. |
