I lifted the curtain,
                    looked out ―
and was looking within me.
A sandbox I saw,
                    a spade,
                                        a castle
and a boy building it;
                                        he is building it still.
The game was
                    and is:
it began
                    and is still in its beginning.
The boy sat down,
                    looked behind him ―
and gave a start;
                    at the window stood a man,
familiar,
                    with a strange look on his face.
What happened there?
Past and future
                    gazed into a COMMON PRESENT.
The boy went on with his play,
                    I let the curtain fall.
No window anymore,
                    no view ―
no within.
Only the body I was given,
                    reflecting on its surface
                                        the distance between me and the boy.
Each holding in his yesterday the line engraved,
                                        the anteroom of tomorrow
                    from which every now is born.
Man and boy ― me ―
                                        all in one;
                    from somewhere towards something new.
                    In that same window,
                                        staring each at each.

-- Matti Itkonen, from "Does What Has Been Survive?" in Analecta Husserliana LXXXII
Translated by Robert MacGilleon