Conversation with a Stone

From the Polish.  

I knock on the stone's door. 
—It's me, let me in. 
I want to come inside, 
look all around; breathe you in. 
    
 —Go away—says the stone.—
I'm tightly closed: 
even broken to bits 
we would be closed, tight. 
Even ground to sand 
we would admit no one. 
    
I knock on the stone's door. 
—It's me, let me in. 
I come out of pure curiosity: 
I can only do it this side of death. 
I intend to wander through your palace, 
then return to the leaf, the water-drop. 
My time is short— 
surely my mortality touches you. 
    
—I am stone—says the stone—
and must therefore remain grave. 
Go away from here— 
fleshly laughter is beyond me. 
    
I knock on the stone's door. 
—It's me, let me in. 
I've heard of your vast empty halls, 
unseen, barrenly beautiful, 
earless, echoless, untrodden. 
Admit, even you know little of this. 
    
—Vast, empty halls—says the stone— 
but there's no room in them. 
Beautiful they may be; but alien 
to your beggarly senses. 
You may recognize me; but experience me—never. 
My whole surface lies towards you; 
my whole interior is turned away. 
  
I knock on the stone's door. 
—It's me, let me in. 
I don't seek sanctuary for all eternity. 
I'm not unhappy; not shelterless; 
my world is worth returning to. 
I will enter, leave, empty-handed. 
The only proof that I was there, truly, 
will be words—and who'll believe them?
    
 —You will not enter—says the stone.— 
You have no concept of stoniness; 
all your makeshifts are futile. 
Even sharpened eyes, X-ray eyes— 
what use are they, faced with my otherness? 
You will not enter: you have intentions, merely—
shadow-sketches, feeble imaginings. 
    
I knock on the stone's door. 
—It's me, let me in. 
I can't wait two thousand ages 
to come under your roof. 
    
—If you don't believe me—says the stone—
turn to the leaf; it will tell my story: 
the water-drop will say the same. 
In the end, ask a hair on your own head. 
I laugh; am exploding with laughter, 
colossal laughter, 
although I cannot laugh. 
    
I knock on the stone's door. 
—It's me, let me in. 
    
—I have no door—says the stone.