In the darkness the moon keeps watch concavely. Your eyes are closed - everyone has seen something, but not the same. What the face conceals, the night notices and the door stands open. Your eyes are closed - your face is near to mine. A power rises and rises from the moment we are born, - and we are not creatures of a single day. Our brains are not constructed to guide wings but to build languages and navigate in a different way: to think is to try to see in a new way, with polar clarity - which also means to grasp the limitation. Your eyes are closed - your body is a leap forward into that saffron-glowing radiance. Sleep has overturned the Rosetta stone of your brain; it shows a script we have not deciphered before ... Our place is time, and we read, as though we are trying to remember what has not yet happened to us. What we do not do is not forgiven. One hand grips hard, the other protects, a third blesses. Your eyes are closed - the soul is drawn by that infinite space, built from the pauses in the music. I have your cry in my mouth.
Pia Tafdrup
The Whales in Paris, 2002, translated by David McDuffSource: www.tafdrup.com
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EN ESPAÑOL:
Memoria del Festival Internacional de Poesía de Medellín
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