They are not heavenly voices speaking to us
from deep in the distance. They are well loved voices.
Inner voices, faraway voices, voices that signal
a path no one knows where it leads.

There are voices that are lamps on unlit streets;
as there are that sound like remote rustling.
There are voices that have made us become words.
Soft voices, absent voices, silent voices...

Poetry is voices turned into sounds saying
where we come from, where we're headed, who we are.

Translated by D. Sam Abrams