There appears and rises, alone
Without breaking the silence of darkness
A sound with form: 'candlestick'.
Vague silver barely lit
Like the nebula on a night
Of visible immensity.
I pronounce the word 'candlestick',
And it takes shape, its stable heaviness
Becomes definite. I make out: a candlestick.
Where am I going? I make an effort
From this awkward shore of an insomnia
Reduced to darkness,
To relate, to communicate now
With something which, in its own way accompanying me
Is now outside of me.
'I need you, world.'
The word and its bridge
Carry me truly to the other shore.
Across the darkness
Help me, my friend, candlestick.
Translation by Joaquín González Muela