Road Poem by Juan Ramón Jiménez
Road
They all are asleep, below.
Above, awake,
the helmsman and I.
He, watching the compass needle, lord
of the bodies, with their keys turned
in the locks. I, with my eyes
toward the infinite, guiding
the open treasures of the souls.
Translated by Robert Bly
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4/16/2024 11:29:07 AM # 1.0.0.1119
