Lucretius knew it:
Open the chest
And you will see that it's full of swirling

And sometimes two flakes
Meet, combine,
Or else one turns aside gracefully
In its small death.

Where does the idea come from that it's clear
In a few words
When the one is only the night,
The other only a dream?

Where do those two shadows come from
Going along smiling,
And the one muffled up
In red wool?

by Yves Bonnefoy

Other poems of YVES BONNEFOY (28)

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