[Lyric] Passer-by these are words... (Yves Bonnefoy)

Passer-by, these are words. But instead of reading
I want you to listen: to this frail
Voice like that of letters eaten by grass

Lend an ear, hear first of all the happy bee
Foraging in our almost rubbed-out names
It flits between two sprays of leaves
Carrying the sound of branches that are real
To those that filigree the still unseen

Then know an even fainter sound, and let it be
The endless murmuring of all our shades
Their whisper rises from beneath the stones
To fuse into a single heat with that blind
Light you are as yet, who can still gaze

May your listening be good! Silence
Is a threshold where a twig breaks in your hand
Imperceptibly, as you attempt to disengage
A name upon a stone:
And so our absent names untangle your alarms
And for you who move away, pensively
Here becomes there without ceasing to be