El pasado
Una pequeña luz en el cielo aparece
de repente
entre dos ramas de pino,sus finas agujas
ahora grabadas en la superficie radiante
y por encima
un cielo alto y plumoso
Huele el aire. Ese es el olor del pino blanco,
más intenso cuando el viento sopla a través de ellos
y el sonido que hace es igualmente extraño,
como el sonido del viento en una película
Sombras en movimiento.
Las cuerdas haciendo el sonido que hacen. Lo que escuchas ahora
debe ser el sonido del ruiseñor,
el pájaro macho cortejando a la hembra
Las cuerdas se mueven. La hamaca
se balancea en el viento, atada
firmemente entre dos pinos
Huele el aire. Ese es el olor del pino blanco.
¿Es la voz de mi madre la que se escucha
o es sólo el sonido que hacen los árboles
cuando el aire pasa entre ellos?
¿ porqué que sonido haría,
pasando a través de nada?
The Past
Small light in the sky appearing
suddenly between
two pine boughs, their fine needles
now etched onto the radiant surface
and above this
high, feathery heaven—
Smell the air. That is the smell of the white pine,
and the sound it makes equally strange,
like the sound of the wind in a movie—
Shadows moving. The ropes
making the sound they make. What you hear now
will be the sound of the nightingale, Chordata,
the male bird courting the female—
The ropes shift. The hammock
sways in the wind, tied
firmly between two pine trees.
Smell the air. That is the smell of the white pine.
It is my mother’s voice you hear
or is it only the sound the trees make
when the air passes through them
because what sound would it make,
passing through nothing?
Small light in the sky appearing
suddenly between
two pine boughs, their fine needles
now etched onto the radiant surface
and above this
high, feathery heaven—
Smell the air. That is the smell of the white pine,
most intense when the wind blows through it
and the sound it makes equally strange,
like the sound of the wind in a movie—
Shadows moving. The ropes
making the sound they make. What you hear now
will be the sound of the nightingale, Chordata,
the male bird courting the female—
The ropes shift. The hammock
sways in the wind, tied
firmly between two pine trees.
Smell the air. That is the smell of the white pine.
It is my mother’s voice you hear
or is it only the sound the trees make
when the air passes through them
because what sound would it make,
passing through nothing?
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