Nature here is made up of light,
silver-white in silver-white,
and naturally weighs nothing.
The mountains still with a trace of blue
do not reach down to the ground
and the copse’s trees have no roots.
My house does not even have windows
and the owner’s name has been erased –
why remember the painter Aguéli?
The people in the village are transparent
as is God’s breath. One also senses
that landscape and the faces are synonymous.
It’s only a question of looking with the heart.
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