«Η διάσχιση τοίχων είναι επώδυνη, σε αρρωσταίνει, αλλά είναι απαραίτητη.
Ο κόσμος είναι ένας. Οι τοίχοι όμως…
Κι ο τοίχος είναι μέρος του εαυτού σου –
είτε το ξέρεις είτε δεν το ξέρεις έτσι είναι για όλους,
εκτός από τα μικρά παιδιά. Γι’ αυτά δεν υπάρχουν τοίχοι.
Ο καθαρός ουρανός έχει γείρει πάνω στον τοίχο.
Μοιάζει με προσευχή στο κενό
Και το κενό στρέφει το πρόσωπό του προς εμάς
και ψιθυρίζει
«Δεν είμαι κενό, είμαι ανοιχτό»»
(από το ποίημα «Βερμέερ») του Tomas Transtromer
Tomas Tranströmer :«Poems are active meditations – they want to wake us up, not put us
to sleep.»
Vermeer
No sheltered world . . .
on the other side of the wall the noise begins
the tavern begins
with laughter and bickering, rows of teeth, tears, the din
of bells
and the mentally disordered brother-in-law, the bearer
of death that everyone must tremble for.
The great explosion and the delayed tramp of rescuers
the boats that strut at anchor, the money that creeps into
the pocket of the wrong person
demands piled on demands
Cusps of gaping red flowers that sweat premonitions of war
Away from there and straight through the wall into the bright studio
into the second that goes on living for hundreds of years.
Paintings titled The Music Lesson
or Woman in Blue Reading a Letter —
she’s in her eighth month, two hearts kicking inside her.
On the wall behind her hangs a wrinkled map of terra Incognita.
Breathe calmly . . . An unknown blue material is nailed
to the chair.
The gold upholstery tacks flew in with unheard-of speed
and stopped abruptly
as if they had never been anything but stillness.
The ears ring with either depth or height.
It’s the pressure from the other side of the wall
that leaves every fact suspended
and holds the brush steady.
It hurts to go through walls, it makes you sick
but it’s necessary.
The world is one. But walls . . .
And the wall is part of yourself —
Whether you know it or not it’s the same for everyone,
everyone except little children. No walls for them.
The clear sky has set itself on a slant against the wall.
It’s like a prayer to emptiness.
And the emptiness turns its face to us
and whispers,
«I am not empty, I am open.»
Tomas Tranströmer
http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/vermeer/woman-blue.html
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