Wait for evening.
Then you’ll be alone.
ait for the playground to empty.
Then call out those companions from childhood:
The one who closed his eyes
and pretended to be invisible.
The one to whom you told every secret.
The one who made a world of any hiding place.
And don’t forget the one who listened in silence
while you wondered out lout:
Is the universe an empty mirror? A flowering tree?
Is the universe the sleep of a woman?
Wait for the sky’s last blue
(the color of your homesickness).
Then you’ll know the answer.
Wait for the air’s first gold (that color of Amen).
Then you’ll spy the wind’ barefoot steps.
Then you’ll recall that story beginning
with a child who strays in the woods.
The search for him goes on in the growing
shadow of the clock.
And the face behind the clock’s face
is not his father’s face.
And the hands behind the clock’s hands
are not his mother’s hands.
All of Time began when you first answered
to the names your mother and father gave you.
Soon, those names will travel with the leaves.
Then, you can trade places with the wind.
Then you’ll remember your life
as a book of candles,
each page read by the light of its own burning.
~ Li-Young Lee (Behind My Eyes) ~
Fan leis an tráthnóna.
Beidh tú leat féin ansin.
Fan go mbeidh an clós súgartha folamh.
Glaoigh ansin ar chompánaigh d’óige:
An té a dhún a shúile
is é ag ligean air nach bhfeicfí é.
An té ar inis tú gach aon rún dó.
An té a dhéanfadh domhan de chró folaigh ar bith.
Is ná dearmad an té a d’éist leat go ciúin
is tú ag déanamh iontais os ard:
An scáthán folamh í an chruinne? Crann faoi bhláth?
An é atá sa chruinne bean faoi shuan?
Fan le gorm deireanach na spéire
(dath an chumha atá ort).
Beidh an freagra agat ansin.
Fan le tús an óir san aer (dath Áiméan).
Feicfidh tú ansin coiscéimeanna cosnochta na gaoithe.
Smaoineoidh tú ansin ar an scéal a thosaíonn
le páiste ag dul ar strae sa choill.
Leantar á lorg is an scáth ag méadú
ar an gclog.
Agus ní hí aghaidh a athar í
an aghaidh laistiar den chlog.
Is ní hiad lámha a mháthar iad
na snáthaidí laistiar de shnáthaidí an chloig.
Cuireadh tús leis an Am go léir nuair a d’fhreagair tú den chéad uair
do na hainmneacha a thug do mháthair is d’athair ort.
Taistealóidh na hainmneacha sin ar ball i dteannta na nduilleog.
Malartaigh áit leis an ngaoth ansin.
Is ansin a chuimhneoidh tú ar do shaol
mar leabhar coinnle,
An uile leathanach á léamh faoi sholas a loiscthe.
