Xavier Villaurrutia

The air plays at distances:

near the horizon,

it takes flight at the trees

and it raises stained glass between the eyes and the landscape.

The air plays the sounds:

it breaks the skylights of the sky,

and fills with silver water echoes

the snail of the ears.

The air plays colors:

it stains with leaf green the brook

and it returns, sudden, blue,

or it passes the tassel of a cloud.

The air plays with memories:

it takes all the noises

and leaves mirrors of silence

to look at the years lived.

Go Back