(Tan Dun)

agua
trémolo
redoble de timbal y
agua
trémolo
gota
GONG
en el seno / cuenco del
agua
trémolo
GONG
vibración que se expande
en el espejo / cuenco / timbal del
agua
trémolo
GONG
Entonces vienen Shakespeare
y Bach
y hablan
sentados frente a frente
frente al cuenco / timbal / del agua
y la luz
como dos Budas
solemnes
hablan
y Shakespeare dice: «De la materia del sueño / somos».
«Fuga / Fuga de muerte» —dice Bach.

Lie down
—on your back
as if you were to die
or give birth to yourself.
Climb up
the slope of the years
in the dark.
Reach the threshold
traverse it / dive into
the deep, narrow scale of oblivion.
Tell me what you see.
Confront it / confront
the one you were even before memory.
Do you recognize yourself ?
Keep going.
Yes, now you recognize the road
that brought you here.
Its sharpness betrays it
—a blue dream projected on the blue screen of time
gradually acquires meaning.
Can you see yourself ?
Ask why and accept it
—whatever the answer
—I’ve come to say good-bye —answer.
Just that

with no spite
violence
or resentment.
It will try to keep you
to answer once again what you already know
what you have already heard it say
perhaps differently.
Lower your eyes and create
—with your gaze only—
a trail on the ground
a track of moist dirt and ashes.
You will see fire rise
a wall of fire
—cold fire—
between you and your failure.
Say good-bye.
Turn your back to it.
Take the road again
—the same one:
the blue dream on the blue of time.
Climb the steps of the deep, narrow scale.
Reach the threshold
traverse it and climb down
the dark incline of the years.
Go back to your body
can you feel it? a pain in the belly or the chest
as though something had been torn from you
tells you that you have prevailed.
Pain will leave
you will remain with yourself.
(The memory of the tear
will unfailingly follow you.)

Traducción al inglés
por Judith Flic