Eyes of shadow-water
eyes of well-water,
eyes of dream-water.
Blue suns, green whirlwinds,
birdbeaks of light pecking open
But tell me, burnt earth, is there no water?
Only blood, only dust,
Only naked footsteps on the thorns?
The rain awakens…
We must sleep with open eyes,
we must dream with our hands,
we must dream the dreams of a river seeking its course,
of the sun dreaming its worlds,
we must dream aloud,
we must sing till the song puts forth roots,
trunk, branches, birds, stars,
we must find the lost word,
and remember what the blood,
the tides, the earth, and the body say,
and return to the point of departure…
Octavio Paz, 1914-1998