Caja de Música

Music from Japan. Greedily
Drops fall from the clepsydra
Of slow honey or invisible gold
That in time repeat a plot
Eternal and fragile, mysterious and clear.
I fear that each one may be the last.
They are a yesterday that returns. From what temple,
From what gentle garden in the mountains,
From what vigils before a sea I do not know,
From what modesty of melancholy,
From what lost and rescued evening,
Do they reach me, their remote future?
I will not know. It doesn't matter. In that music
I am. I want to be. I bleed out.