There are days that the Silence need not hear itself-
It rests calmly where no one is
And waits wholly alone for nothing to disturb it-
It knows what it knows and it does not know anything
But it is calm as peace as rest after satisfying love-
It knows it need not hear itself
It knows it is not
Silence waits and calls
Listens and answers
Pretends to be
And pretends not to be-
What it is really can be heard only
By those who have at one time or another have known
The infinite intimations given by the musics of Sound
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem