All of the sudden the sight
of a bare branch at the window
Its scratchy drawing moves on
spider or arabesque
through the snow
This winter calligraphy
brings signs of rebirth
but its tiny signatures of death
will never be lovelier
than today
Sap which boils immobility or sleeps
Inscribed in air
the rigging of a sailing ship
This garden
could be
in all innocence
Paradise
Pacheco, José Emilio. "The Branch." Trans. George McWhirter. Selected Poems. Eds. George McWhirter and José Emilio Pacheco. New York: New Directions, 1987. pp. 125-26.