Sonnet 43
Clouds collect
the sky's overflowing light.
Wind whispers in my ear
and suddenly a great emptiness awakens.
Turning, I see someone.
I quietly leave my words behind.
People treat them politely.
I sit on the world, as on a chair.
People collect
the sounds of the earth.
But no secret murmurings will persuade me.
Yet sometimes a wind-like happiness emerges
from among things indifferent to me,
and when it does I am here again.
From 62 Sonnets
Translation by W.I. Elliott and K. Kawamura
