Suceda lo que suceda,
el poema volverá un día.
Suceda lo que suceda,
el poema te buscará un día...
llega un día en que todo se inclina alrededor. Se cierra.
Se pierde el cuerpo. Se apaga el cielo y solo
quedan las palabras sobre el papel y la música, antes que las palabras, antes que el color, antes
que el cielo
y sin embargo,
detrás del poema. Así.

Stefanos Bekatoros.

Nothing nothingned itself for me as well...

It truly turned its self inside out.
Where did I find myself?
From head to toe among the planets,
not even remembering how it was for me not to be.

O my dear that I met here and fell in love with here, I can only imagine, with my hand on your shoulder, how much emptiness is allotted us on the other side, how much silence there for one cricket here, how much meadow lacking there for a tiny leaf of sorrel here, and the sun after darkness, like reperations in a drop of dew-for such deep droughts there.

Starry helter-skelter! Here the other way around! Streched over curvature, weight friccion and motion! A break in infinity for the limitless sky! A relief from non-spase in the form of swaying birch!

Now or never the wind moves a cloud for the wind is exactly what doesn´t blow there. And a beetle steps onto a path in the dark suit of a witness on the occation of a long wait of a short life.

But it just so happens that I am with you.
And I really see nothing
ordinary about it

Wislawa Szymborska

Creando Vínculos

Vuelvo a tocar las superficies de las cosas. Vuelvo a palpar como sea un exterior a mí, permeable. Hilos finos permiten que acceda a las superficies de las cosas, aquellas se me adentran sin pedir permiso y yo vuelvo a resbalar en su tiempo.