Water and wind and stone

Perfect afternoon for a walk: up via footpaths and lanes, though a field of overly intrusive cattle (requiring an escape over a barbed wire fence) and across a moorland maze of heathery tracks. 
On the way back down a sundog glowed beside the sinking sun.

The water hollowed the stone,
the wind dispersed the water,
the stone stopped the wind.
Water and wind and stone.

The wind sculpted the stone,
the stone is a cup of water,
The water runs off and is wind.
Stone and wind and water.

The wind sings in its turnings,
the water murmurs as it goes,
the motionless stone is quiet.
Wind and water and stone.

One is the other and is neither:
among their empty names
they pass and disappear,
water and stone and wind.


Octavio Paz


(There another translation here. Which do you prefer? I can't decide.
Or the colour version of the image?)