Allí estaba, palabra por palabra,
El poema que tomó el lugar de una montaña.
Él respiraba ese oxígeno,
Aún cuando el libro yaciera boca abajo sobre la mesa polvorienta.
Eso le recordaba cuánto había necesitado
Un lugar al que ir, siguiendo su propia dirección,
Cómo había recompuesto los pinos,
Desplazado las rocas y elegido su camino entre las nubes,
Para alcanzar la perspectiva correcta,
Aquella que lo hiciera sentirse completo, en una culminación inexplicable:
La roca exacta donde su inexactitud
Pudiera descubrir, al menos, el panorama hacia el cual se aproximaba,
Donde poder echarse y, contemplando el mar,
Reconocer su hogar, único y solitario.
The Poem That Took The Place Of A Mountain
There it was, word for word,
The poem that took the place of a mountain.
He breathed its oxygen,
Even when the book lay turned in the dust of his table.
It reminded him how he had needed
A place to go to in his own direction,
How he had recomposed the pines,
Shifted the rocks and picked his way among clouds,
For the outlook that would be right,
Where he would be complete in an unexplained completion:
The exact rock where his inexactness
Would discover, at last, the view toward which they had edged,
Where he could lie and, gazing down at the sea,
Recognize his unique and solitary home.
De Collected Poems
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