Ось такі справи, слово за словом

Його поезія стала горою.

Він вдихав її кисень, навіть, коли

Його книга валялась в пилу на столі.

Вона нагадувала, треба простір мати,

Щоб було з чого напрямок обирати,

Він серед сосен шлях прокладав,

Рухав каміння, хмари рвав,

Була вірною перспектива,

Але завершення незрозуміле.

Сувора скеля, на якій заблукав,

Краєвид відкрила такий, як шукав.

Тут він міг лежати, милуючись морем,

Будучи своїм в неповторнім безлюднім домі.

THE POEM THAT TOOK THE PLACE OF A MOUNTAIN

There it was, word for word,

The poem that took the place of a mountain.

He breathed its oxygen,

Even when the book lay turned in the dust of his table.

It reminded him how he had needed

A place to go to in his own direction,

How he had recomposed the pines,

Shifted the rocks and picked his way among clouds,

For the outlook that would be right,

Where he would be complete in an unexplained completion:

The exact rock where his inexactness

Would discover, at last, the view toward which they had edged,

Where he could lie and, gazing down at the sea, Recognize his unique and solitary home.