You will remember...

You will remember that leaping stream
where sweet aromas rose and trembled,
and sometimes a bird, wearing water
and slowness, its winter feathers.


You will remember those gifts from the earth:
indelible scents, gold clay,
weeds in the thicket and crazy roots,
magical thorns like swords.


You'll remember the bouquet you picked,
shadows and silent water,
bouquet like a foam-covered stone.


That time was like never, and like always.
So we go there, where nothing is waiting;
we find everything waiting there.

Maybe you'll remember...

Maybe you'll remember that razor-faced man
who slipped out from the dark like a blade
and -- before we realized -- knew what was there:
he saw the smoke and concluded fire.


The pallid woman with black hair
rose like a fish from the abyss,
and the two of them built up a contraption,
armed to the teeth, against love.


Man and woman, they felled mountains and gardens,
they went down to the river, they scaled the walls,
they hoisted their atrocious artillery up the hill.


Then love knew it was called love.
And when I lifted my eyes to your name,
suddenly your heart showed me my way.