I went out to walk towards this sea, but I must deny this
because I had gone out and in reality almost immediately
I met a plane tree and am stuck with writing about it,
though writing is more than telling,
and telling is already difficult,
though the difficulty is going back in
to write about the plane tree
to tell about the plane tree
without having it in front of me,
trying to remember,
betraying in recollecting as if it did not exist, really
plane tree of branches and leaves in the light.
How to forget it

Describe it, accepting the metaphors, perfectly sufficient, apparently indifferent but
alive with its gaze, dead from its splendor, of the evil that makes them different and
lucid of itself. And my compliments to the plane tree and goodbye to the walk, of he
who for a moment believed to have seen it and has forgotten it.
Rebuild it as new

Return to the lawn as if looking for something that is no longer a tree, no more a tree
than me or you who read me and are not on the lawn, and imagine this tree without
love, without any reservations of reality.

Ask you to come without fixing appointments,
ask together absent-mindedly
with the sole energy that we are allowed
for a free spot on the lawn, in front of the sea,
not far from the room where all is told.

Translation: 2004, Gabriele Poole