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t h e p a r a b l e o f t h e d u m b m a n
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D I N U A D A M
translated by Adam Sorkin with the Poet
"My God, what a rain!" said the Blind Man,
feeling how the quick, hard drops,
quick and hard like the unripe berries of grapes,
strike him and then trickle down his forehead,
trickle down his eyelids, trickle down his cheeks…
The Dumb Man kept silent-
he didn't need to say anything:
he could see.
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