The Key of Water
By Octavio Paz
After Rishikesh
the Ganges is still green.
The glass horizon
breaks among the peaks.
We walk upon crystals.
Above and below
great gulfs of calm.
In the blue spaces
white rocks, black clouds.
You said:
Le pays est plein de sources.
That night I dipped my hands in your breasts.
The Need for Change
After Monday’s rain
the pond is murky brown.
The neglected grass
sucks at Nature’s breast.
I slip on the wet stones.
All around our town
huge sighs of relief.
In the green spaces
leaves fall, trees rise.
I thought:
La terre est toute nourrie.
Sometimes, I wish I could fly to France.
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