To read a poem is to hear it with our eyes; to hear it is to see it with our ears.

Poems need both eyes and ears

There's something mysterious about how a poem arrives differently depending on whether you're reading it silently or hearing someone speak it aloud. When you read, you're creating the rhythm in your head—your own pace, your own emphasis. When you listen, the speaker's voice does that work for you, and you're free to notice things you might have skipped over. It's like the difference between looking at a photograph and having someone point out details you'd otherwise miss.

What Paz is really getting at is that poems aren't just words sitting on a page. They're complete experiences that engage your senses in unexpected ways. Reading activates your internal ear; listening activates your mind's eye. Neither one is more "correct"—they're just different doors into the same room. This matters because it reminds us that the most meaningful things we encounter often work on multiple levels at once. A poem isn't truly finished until it passes through both sight and sound, through both solitude and presence. In a world obsessed with single, efficient ways of consuming information, Paz is suggesting that depth requires us to meet art more than halfway.