You enjoy my eye?
Well, how about my voice?
Can my voice be like an eye?
Looking at clouds in the sky,
cormorants in rice-
paddies, when I use my eye—
remaining inside
where the camera lens
lies, which is the eye
itself—it makes no noise,
though its colors may be garrish
and loud; and even an eye
can speak pain or joy
and sparkle brown or blue, its colors
saturating the world of thou-not-I.
But it’s too shy
to talk. So Schweige
stumm, obstreperous voice!
Be as quiet as an eye!
