The Trade

- Good afternoon, are you selling a heart?
- I have one left, wounded...!
- I cannot take it, I carry two---
one ablaze, one frozen!
I speak to others with the burning one...
Before them, each day it performs as required;
but the cold heart---
for me it serves a different purpose, do you understand?
Because whenever I find myself near
someone at the dust-buried crossroads,
I turn my gaze to the cold heart,
and there I discover the true way...

- But never mind that, are you selling your hands?
- I am selling, but sorrowfully they are numb...!
- I already possess them, deadened!
I need hands that hunger,
to stroke with tenderness, and grip with strength,
to lift all things toward the heavens,
and not hang uselessly to the right---
to tumble, to be dragged upon the earth...

- One last thing, do you have eyes?
- I'm selling two, but the pity is they're sightless...!
- I'm searching for them, they must not show
the pallid visions of my ridiculous days!
With blind eyes, I shall see more clearly
where and how deceits converge,
when hands are truly hands,
and how hearts begin their loving...!