The Greatest (Impossible) Escape

The House
Marin Sorescu

I want to build myself a house
As far away as possible
From all the things
I know.

As far away as possible from the mountains
Out of which squirrels leap in the morning
Like apostles in a clock
Naive beyond belief.

And I don’t want it on the shore
Of that white tiredness
Where I could see through every window
An enamelled scale.

And I know all the tricks
Of the plain.
What else can you expect from her
If at night she frees the grass and wheat
To grow through your ribs and temples?

In any place at all
I’d get so fearfully bored
I couldn’t even
Hang
On my wall
Pictures
The doorway would look too familiar
I’d be feeling I had to move on.

If only I could build myself a house
As far away as possible from
Myself.