poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

Between going and staying the day wavers, 
in love with its own transparency. 
The circular afternoon is now a bay 
where the world in stillness rocks. 

All is visible and all elusive, 
all is near and can't be touched. 

Paper, book, pencil, glass, 
rest in the shade of their names. 

Time throbbing in my temples repeats 
the same unchanging syllable of blood. 

The light turns the indifferent wall 
into a ghostly theater of reflections. 

I find myself in the middle of an eye, 
watching myself in its blank stare. 

The moment scatters. Motionless, 
I stay and go: I am a pause. 


Translated by Eliot Weinberger

Submitted by Betty Kieley

Added: 14 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 5 Sep 2008 3:50 PM | Viewed: 13846 times

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