I am as far as the deepest sky between clouds

    and you are as far as the deepest root and wound，

    and I am as far as a train at evening，

    as far as a whistle you can't hear or remember.

    You are as far as an unimagined animal

    who， frightened by everything， never appears.

    I am as far as cicadas and locusts

    and you are as far as the cleanest arrow

    that has sewn the wind to the light on

    the birch trees. I am as far as the sleep of rivers

    that stains the deepest sky between clouds，

    you are as far as invention， and I am as far as memory.

    You are as far as a red-marbled stream

    where children cut their feet on the stones

    and cry out. And I am as far as their happy

    mothers， bleaching new linen on the grass

    and singing， "You are as far as another life，

    as far as another life are you."

    And I am as far as an infinite alphabet

    made from yellow stars and ice，

    and you are as far as the nails of the dead man，

    as far as a sailor can see at midnight

    when he's drunk and the moon is an empty cup，

    and I am as far as invention and you are as far as memory.

    I am as far as the corners of a room where no one

    has ever spoken， as far as the four lost corners

    of the earth. And you are as far as the voices

    of the dumb， as the broken limbs of saints

    and soldiers， as the scarlet wing of the suicidal

    blackbird， I am farther and farther away from you.

    And you are as far as a horse without a rider

    can run in six years， two months and five days.

    I am as far as that rider， who rubs his eyes with

    his blistered hands， who watches a ghost don his

    jacket and boots and now stands naked in the road.

    As far as the space between word and word，

    as the heavy sleep of the perfectly loved

    and the sirens of wars no one living can remember，

    as far as this room， where no words have been spoken，

    you are as far as invention， and I am as far as memory.