Bloaters on a Yellow Piece of Paper
How far it is between the stars, how much farther
is what's right here. The distance, for example,
between a child and one who walks by—
oh, how inconceivably far.
Not only in measurable spans does Fate
move through our lives.
Think how great the distance between a young girl
and the boy she avoids and loves.
Everything is far, nowhere does the circle close.
See, on the plate upon the festive table
how strangely the fish is staring.
Fish are mute, we used to think. Who knows?
We may, in the end, find that their silence
says more to us than our words.
Sonnets to Orpheus II, 10