El poema de hoy entra en la conversación que ayer iniciaba Carlos Pujol. En el poema de ayer la distracción era una forma de soledad, hoy es una forma de ausencia. En ambos, la pobreza humana se topa con la riqueza divina—"the unchanging presence" tiene "tesoros de tiempo en los bolsillos"—y se siente la urgencia de por fin encontrar el zafiro, de no dejar que escapar lo único importante entre las oleadas del día. (Cf. A Prayer, Marie Howe)
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| Denise Levertov con Wendell Berry y Thomas Merton |
Lord, not you,
it is I who am absent.
At first
belief was a joy I kept in secret,
stealing alone
into sacred places:
a quick glance, and away—and back,
circling.
I have long since uttered your name
but now
I elude your presence.
I stop
to think about you, and my mind
at once
like a minnow darts away,
darts
into the shadows, into gleams that fret
unceasing over
the river's purling and passing.
Not for one second
will my self hold still, but wanders
anywhere,
everywhere it can turn. Not you,
it is I am absent.
You are the stream, the fish, the light,
the pulsing shadow.
You the unchanging presence, in whom all
moves and changes.
How can I focus my flickering, perceive
at the fountain's heart
the sapphire I know is there?
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