There is a place that I myself know
in this world, no less,
we will never reach.
Where, even if our foot
were to reach it for an instant
it will be, truly, as if we are not there
It is that spot which is seen
every moment in this life,
walking, walking in single file.
This side of myself and of
my pair of yolks, I have glimpsed it
always distant from destinies.
Now, you can depart on foot
or out of sheer sentiment bareback,
since not even stamps could reach it.
The tea color horizon
is dying to colonize it
for its great Whatever part.
But the place that I myself know,
in this world, no less,
sought pace with its opposites.
- Close that door that
is ajar in the entrails
of that mirror. -This one? - No; its sister.
It cannot be closed. It is not possible
to ever reach that spot
where the bolts act up unbound.
Such is the place that I myself know.
Translated by Clayton Eshleman