You see the fire of evening

You see the fire of evening emerging from its shell

and you see the forest buried in its coolness.

You see the bare plain beside the straggling sky,

the snow as high as the sea,

and the sea high in the blue heaven.

Perfect stones, gentle woods - veiled assistance.

You see cities tinged with golden melancholy,

sidewalks full of apologies,

and a square where loneliness has a smiling

statue, and love has only one house.

You see the animals

identical and shrewd, sacrificed one to another -

immaculate brothers whose shadows are mingled

in a wilderness of blood.

You see a beautiful child, as he plays and laughs;

he is smaller by far

than the little bird on the tips of the twigs.

You see a landscape tasting of olive oil and water

where rock is excluded, and where the earth yields up

her greenery to summer which covers her with fruit.

There are women descending from their ancient mirrors

who bring you their youth and their faith in yours;

and one of them (her clear face is the sail that draws you on)

makes you secretly see the world without your presence.