A Bird Comes To The Most Distant And Solitary Shore...
A bird comes to the most distant and solitary shore.
It drinks a little of the water
that becomes turbid with sand
and then resumes its flight,
it repeats a scene as ancient as the world
that never stopped taking place.
If it would stop happening even for not more than a single day,
no longer would music be possible nor the stars nor honey
nor Renoir nor the children who play with the dice
nor the clouds nor your hair that blows in the wind
nor even your eyes that expel the shades
every morning when you wake up.
(Translated by Stefan Beyst)