from I Speak of the City

I speak of summer and of the arrested night that grows on the horizon like a mountain of smoke and bit by bit crumbles and falls on us like a wave,
the elements are reconciled and the night has spread out, its body is a powerful river of sudden sleep, we rock in the waves of its breathing,
the hour is tangible, we can touch it like a fruit,
they have lit the lights and the avenues burn with the blaze of desire, in the parks the electric light pierces through the leaves and falls on us in a green and phosphorescent mist that lights us without dampness,
the trees murmur,
they're telling us something,
there are streets in the shadows that are a smiling insinuation,
we don't know where they go, maybe to the ferry to the lost islands ...
I speak of the long-awaited encounter with that unexpected form, in which the unknown is made flesh,
and revealed to each of us:eyes that are the half-open night and the waking day,
the sea that spreads out and the speaking flame, bold breasts, lunar tide,lips that say sesame and time opens up and the little room becomes a garden of transformation and air and fire bond, earth and water mingle,

Octavio Paz