Friday, April 18, 2014

A Poem for Chino

This Side

There is light. We neither see nor touch it.
In its empty clarities rests
what we touch and see.
I see with my fingertips
what my eyes touch:
                                 shadows, the world.
With shadows I draw worlds,
I scatter worlds with shadows.
I hear light on the other side.

— Octavio Paz