_ _ _
He drew windows everywhere.
On walls too high,
on walls too low,
on blunt walls, in corners,
on air and even on roofs.
He drew windows as if drawing birds.
On the floor, on nights,
on glances tangibly deaf,
on death's outskirts,
on tombs, trees.
He drew windows even on doors.
But he never drew a door.
He didn't want to enter or leave.
He knew one can't.
He only wanted to see: to see.
He drew windows.
Everywhere.
- Roberto Juarroz, tr. by Mary Crow
Windows are like doors in walls. I want to see, too! Lovely.
ReplyDeleteI like Juarroz.
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