OUR HANDS IN THE WATER: Poetry, by Yves Bonnefoy

OUR HANDS IN THE WATER

We fidget this water. In it, our hands are sought, sometimes touching, broken shapes. Further down, is a current, is something invisible, other trees, other lights, other dreams. And look, are also other colors. Refraction transfigures the red. It was a summer day? No, it is the time that will change the sky, and into the evening. We just soaking your hands in the language, you grabbed words of which did not know what to do, it is not that our desires. We have become old. This water, our transparency. Others will look deeper into a new heaven, a new earth.

(Yves Bonnefoy)

http://www.amazon.com/The-Curved-Planks-French-Edition/dp/0374530750