En El Bosque Aguanegra
Mirá, los árboles
están convirtiendo
sus propios cuerpos
en pilares
de luz,
están emitiendo la abundante
fragancia de canela
y satisfacción,
los largos estambres
de las totoras
revientan y se van flotando sobre
los hombros azules
de los lagos,
y cada lago,
sin importar cuál sea
su nombre, es
innombrable ahora.
Cada año,
cada cosa
que aprendí
en mi vida
me retrotrae a esto: los fuegos
y el negro río de la pérdida
cuya otra orilla
es la salvación,
cuyo sentido
ninguno de nosotros jamás sabrá.
Para vivir en este mundo
debés ser capaz
de hacer tres cosas:
amar lo que es mortal;
aferrarte a él
con tus huesos sabiendo
que tu propia vida depende de ello;
y, cuando el tiempo llegue de soltarlo,
soltarlo.
In Blackwater Woods
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
de New and Selected poems, Beacon Press, Boston
