Memory II
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MEMORY, II Ephesus He spoke while sitting on what seemed to be the marble remnant of an ancient gate; endless the plain on the right and empty, on the left the last shadows moved down the mountain: "The poem is everywhere. Your voice sometimes travels beside it like a dolphin keeping company for a while with a golden sloop in the sunlight, then vanishing again. The poem is everywhere, like the wings of the wind moved by the wind to touch for a moment the sea gull's wings. The same as our lives yet different too, as a woman's face changes yet remains the same after she strips naked. He who, has loved knows this; in the light that other people see things, the world spoils; but you remember this: Hades and Dionysus are the same."* He spoke and then took the main road that leads to the old harbor, devoured now under the rushes there. The twilight as if ready for the death of some animal, so naked was it. I remember still: 197 he was traveling to Ionian shores, to empty shells of theaters where only the lizard slithers over the dry stones, and I asked him: "Will they be full again some day?" and he answered: "Maybe, at the hour of death." And he ran across the orchestra howling "Let me hear my brother!" And the silence surrounding us was harsh, leaving no trace at all on the glass of the blue. 198 ...


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