Thursday, May 16, 2013

The Hills

Purity, solitude? There. They are grey. Intact greys not even the idle foot surprised, supremely light. Greys beside Nothing, melancholy and beautiful, which the air shelters like a soul, visible
because so true to its object: waiting always. To be! And even more remote, for smoke, for eyes of the most distracted, a secure Nothingness: the perfect grey on tender aridness, grey of those hills!
Jorge Guillén
translated by Julian Palley