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Passerby, These Are Words

Passer-by, these are words...

Yves Bonnefoy

Passer-by, these are words. But instead of reading
I want you to listen: to this frail
Voice like that of letters eaten by grass.

Lend an ear, hear first of all the happy bee
Foraging in our almost rubbed-out names.
It flits between two sprays of leaves,
Carrying the sound of branches that are real
To those that filigree the unseen gold.

Then know an even fainter sound, and let it be
The endless murmuring of all our shades.
Their whisper rises from beneath the stones
To fuse into a single heat with that blind
Light you are as yet, who can still gaze.

Listen simply, if you will. Silence is a threshold
where upon, a twig breaks in your hand,
As you try to disengage
A name upon a stone:

And so our absent names untangle your alarms.
And for you who move away, pensively,
Here becomes there without ceasing to be.


Can you please explain the meaning of the last two stanzas? :)

Comments

  • F-A SoldierF-A Soldier PEx Influencer ⭐⭐⭐
    The whole poem is about sensing what is really there by looking past what obvious. Also saying that artificial things are finite, while the real sound of nature is eternal/omnipresent.

    The last two lines is saying wherever you go if you think deeply, you'll always notice it (it's omnipresence). By saying that their mortality is dissolve, you can say that they are still there and will always be there. Almost kinda like the concept of nirvana/moksha. Or lasting memory/immortality by memory.

    My interpretation,

    Terp
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