stanzas for an imaginary garden

by octavio paz (from itinerary)

the first eight lines describe a somewhat rural, provincial garden. a small enclosure with two entrances. apart from the palm tree already there, you should plant bougainvillaeas, heliotrope, an ash and a pine. you should also install a well. this first text could be placed on one of the entrances to the little garden, either as one stanza on the lintel or on the pediment, or divided into two quartets, one on each of the doorposts:

four adobe walls. bougainvillaeas.

in its quiet flames, eyes

can bathe themselves. the wind passes through leaves

singing praises and herbs on their knees.

the heliotrope crosses over with purple steps,

wrapped in its own aroma. there is a prophet:

the ash tree -- and a meditative: the pine.

the garden is small, the sky infinite.

these four lines could be placed on the other entrance, on the lintel or pediment:

happy rectangle: some palm trees,

jade fountains; time glows,

water sings, the stone is silent, the soul,

suspended in a moment of time, is a fountain.

this text could be placed in the inside of the garden. for example, on the fountain. i imagine a wall over which a curtain of transparent water falls as you read the four lines:

rain, dancing feet and loosened hair,

ankle bitten by lightning,

falls down accompanied by drums:

the tree opens its eyes, revives.

COLOPHON

written after visiting the place:

populous wasteland, a few palms,

plucked feather dusters, hammering

of motors, a prison wall,

dust and rubbish, nobody’s home.

written remembering the imaginary garden:

green survives in my ruins:

in my eyes you look and touch yourself,

you know yourself in me and in me think yourself,

in me you survive, in me you vanish.