How Say It?


“How say it?” — Yes, how?
We do not speak a language.
We speak.

It is between you and what you see,
in that in-between of vision,
that everything happens.

You are not the access, man evicted from the Garden,
but possess
the dark bitter knowledge
of one with no access.

Everything immediately vanishes,
vanishes while appearing.
As soon as you glimpse it
immediately it withdraws into itself.

Stop, yes, contemplate,
but do not linger.
One can perhaps only be called
in the passing.

The drop is unaware that it is a drop,
since it is part of the sea.
But nor is the drop aware of the sea.

Bent by the wind, the young tree
yields to the passing breeze.
To the Passing.

Appearance perhaps only hides
what dare not appear.

When I sleep, things keep watch.
Things watch over me, like one watches over a dead man.

The silence calls the silence.
It is less silence
than what calls the silence.

There is obviously a Meaning,
but it could not reach us.

The ripple through the grass makes a watery sound
that says, when you hear it,
something that is said before it is heard.

Nothing is hidden.
Nor is anything
Roger Munier
Comment dire, from Chronique de la Luxiotte