Dürer Speaks with the Master
When I study your work, Master, like an engraving -
forgive the meager black-and-white comparison -
I see only the endless line an inch away
(I myself am a neighboring stroke).
Its delicate flickering, its lush branching outward,
its coiling in the dark, its countless voices,
its powerful ascents and descents
stir my delight.
But I do not know what it's for, what it will reveal.
Not even if it's illuminated
or in shade.
It unnerves me.
I see a fragment of the work.