Sunday Verse
Oracle
by Octavio Paz
The cold lips of the night
utter a word
column of grief
no word but stone
no stone but shadow
vaporous thoughts
through my vaporous lips real water
word of truth
reason behind my errors
If it is death only through that do I live
if it is solitude I speak in serving it
It is memory and I remember nothing
I do not know what it says and I trust myself to it
how to know oneself living
how to forget one's knowing
Time that half-opens the eyelids
and sees us, letting itself be seen