A Translation (i.m. Octavio Paz)

As through a magnifying glass, the light lights - quickly becoming flame.
Gone - gone - Where? - To what region of being? - To what existence in what worlds?
Like the kingfisher seen as a flash of topaz, the twigs weave as flame.
It opposes. My hands uncover. All the suns now become. I write.
Window on immensity. There is no one here. Presence without name.
Last night an ash-tree, on the point of declaiming something, didn't.
So that the disappearance of matter into light - magnificence -
Apparition. Golden Lotuses. Distant Neighbour. Exclamation.
...