Red Kimono

And she laid a pale wash,
over the figures,
like a layer of time,
as behind her through the open
door I stood and watched.

How Japanese eyes could
transform the irretrievable instant
when white paper and line
become celebrations of a mountain,
a bird, clouds, a branch of blossom,
moths about a solitary lantern.

Turning to the light and with
gentle dancing hands she
invites me in to see the painting
but I have long since gone.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll return to
these moments that last forever.



En Silencio

En silencio el agua
cae por la corteza.

Las hojas brillan
como una lluvia de peces,

y el bosque se convierte
en mar negro.

Así fluyes cuando
nos encontramos.