The people bring you a peasant’s daughter,
a year and a half old, deprived of sight,
though she clearly enjoys being in the light
near the window. But first, some water
to cleanse her face, her eyes, and check
whether her complaint may be cataract
although the fact of the matter is that
her eyes are well formed, free of specks
or clouds. “Was she born in this state?”
you ask the mother. “Was there gradual loss?”
The mother says she’s convinced, of course,
when she was with child, all night, all day
she tended to her mother, supposedly dying,
who recovered her illness, but recovered blind,
and try as they might they could not find
a reason for her blindness. She’d be lying
if she didn’t think this was the cause. You fear
for such misfortune you know of no remedy,
except perhaps the child’s cradle should be
placed with the feet toward the window. Clear-
ly, this is so she might gradually acquire
a habit of turning her eyes in pursuit of light.
Blindness passes on blindness, just as sight
is earned by repeated efforts to be purer, higher.