The Street
Here is a long and silent street.
I walk in blackness and I stumble and fall
and rise, and I walk blind, my feet
trampling the silent stones and the dry leaves.
Someone behind me also tramples, stones, leaves:
if I slow down, he slows;
if I run, he runs I turn : nobody.
Everything dark and doorless,
only my steps aware of me,
I turning and turning among these corners
which lead forever to the street
where nobody waits for, nobody follows me,
where I pursue a man who stumbles
and rises and says when he sees me : nobody.
– Octavio Paz (1914-1998)
I walk in blackness and I stumble and fall
and rise, and I walk blind, my feet
trampling the silent stones and the dry leaves.
Someone behind me also tramples, stones, leaves:
if I slow down, he slows;
if I run, he runs I turn : nobody.
Everything dark and doorless,
only my steps aware of me,
I turning and turning among these corners
which lead forever to the street
where nobody waits for, nobody follows me,
where I pursue a man who stumbles
and rises and says when he sees me : nobody.
– Octavio Paz (1914-1998)
Octavio Paz – who has been featured from time to time in our Midweek Motifs, most recently in Bridge – is often quoted on the internet as saying, 'Deserve your dream.' (Yes, worth quoting.) One such instance also informs us: 'Mexican poet and Nobel Prize winner Octavio Paz (born March 31, 1914) thought he wanted to be a lawyer when he was a young man. But at the age of 23, he abandoned his studies to work at a school for the sons of peasants. The experience inspired his epic poem, Between the Stone and the Flower, which explores the effects of domineering landlords on the lower class.'
This is perhaps an extreme encapsulation of his career as prolific poet and writer, diplomat, political activist and later a professor, who won other prizes besides (the ultimate) the Nobel. But he had such a long and active career, it's far too detailed to try and précis here. Instead I refer you to Wikipedia.
I've recently become enamoured of his shorter poems. I like his way of looking at the world, which involves unexpectedness and mystery and makes me do a double-take and rethink – as in The Street, above, which at first recounts an experience that's not uncommon. Though he tells it vividly enough that I kept reading, he didn't seem to be saying anything new – until that twist in the tail which suddenly raises startling questions.
I wouldn't attempt to try and answer them! Instead, I'll treat you to a couple of his other intriguing short pieces and leave you to ponder:
Last Dawn
Your hair is lost in the forest,
your feet touching mine.
Asleep you are bigger than the night,
but your dream fits within this room.
How much we are who are so little!
Outside a taxi passes
with its load of ghosts.
The river that runs by
is always
running back.
Will tomorrow be another day?
your feet touching mine.
Asleep you are bigger than the night,
but your dream fits within this room.
How much we are who are so little!
Outside a taxi passes
with its load of ghosts.
The river that runs by
is always
running back.
Will tomorrow be another day?
Brotherhood
I am a man: little do I last
and the night is enormous.
But I look up:
the stars write.
Unknowing I understand:
I too am written,
and at this very moment
someone spells me out.
and the night is enormous.
But I look up:
the stars write.
Unknowing I understand:
I too am written,
and at this very moment
someone spells me out.
Material shared in “Thought
Provokers’ is presented for study and review. Poems, photos and other writings
remain the property of the copyright owners, usually their authors.The photo of Octavio Paz is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported license. Attribution: Jonn Leffmann.
