The Home of Light

The sullen sky is rolling upwards
and threatens over the black mountains.

Finally this house is my home
and even what is hardest in it (the wall
of such emphatic stone)
will sleep quietly inside my eyes.
In this house time is tender
and always hushes down so it becomes the silence
that runs through my veins.

In my home there are no days or nights.
My home is my day and my night.
Each tiny room is like an open-air terrace.
I float in its solitude, drink in its shadow;
ascending to attics of light
descending to a knowledge that does not know.
The house, in its peacefulness, is spinning
- like a planetarium of love -
around this haven for the body.
I go around the house, without going, to each place
and, not having left, return to their pleasures.
Everything I’ve looked for, here I find.

This home is a world outside the world.
Inside there's a music that sweeps on endlessly,
a tide in which I come
and go (yet completely motionless!),
receiving answers without words
to questions that do not move my lips.
And I feel that you are here, even if you're not,
and I am in you, even if I'm not.
A center where I see at last, with such clarity!
A center where, at last, not being you,
in all your fullness, you come to save me.

At last my heart has now returned
to listen to itself.
How sweet this closing down of everything
to open up and understand everything:
a beautiful nothing comes caressing
my skin to quieten me,
to quiten me even more, and calm me down!
Home of love, with its rings
of whistling silence that cannot suffocate us
because our blood
does not harm us any more.
(Our blood is now only
a copper light burning slowly
round the tops of the cypresses).

A home in the tide of life,
a tide in the home of light!