Ceguera

Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind                                        Since I left you, Anne

And that which governs me to go about                                        I have seen nothing but you.

Doth part his function and is partly blind                                       Everyday

Seems seeing, but effectually is out;                                            Have been your face

For it no form delivers to the heart                                               And every night your hand,

Of bird of flower, or shape, which it doth latch:                             and every road

Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,                                   Your voice calling me.

Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch:                                  And every rock and every flower and tree

For if it see the rudest or gentlest sight,                                       Has been a touch of you.

The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature,                            Nowhere

The mountain or the sea, the day or night,                                    Have I seen anything else but you,

The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature:                         Anne

Incapable of more, replete with you,

My most true mind thus makes mine eye untrue.

Soneto 113. William Shakespeare                                                                                                                             A letter to Anne. Langston Hughes