Now Neruda for a while… The fertility of silence; origin is darkness (language is rooted in the inchoate; language reaches down as well as up). To move, to develop, we exceed ourselves – stretch into what we’re not. We remember that the dramaturgical drive for clarity is based in a desire for invisibility – clarity as in transparency – the content is pure momentum. Light (voiceless) is buzzing with activity; to ask permission is to ask leave, to ask for vacated space in which to work (to buzz).
from I Ask for Silence (trans. Alastair Reid)
But because I ask for silence,
don’t think I’m going to die.
The opposite is true;
it happens I’m going to live.
To be, and to go on being.
I will not be, however, if, inside me,
the crop does not keep sprouting,
the shoots first, breaking through the earth
to reach the light;
but the mothering earth is dark,
and, deep inside me, I am dark.
I am a well in the water of which
the night leaves stars behind
and goes on alone across fields.
It’s a question of having lived so much
that I want to live that much more.
I never felt my voice so clear,
never have been so rich in kisses.
Now, as always, it is early.
The light is a swarm of bees.
Let me alone with the day.
I ask leave to be born.