dramatic spans
years and years of waiting
to get exactly what you want
in what you do
you reflect
the need to wait for the return
of a particular quality of light,
in order to proceed
selecting the mood
waiting for the right time to unfold
about your struggles
uncooperative weather
or other alterations in your chosen thoughts,
in your effort to record faithfully
some tracks of history
all very impressive
such excessive literalness
your only aim,
avoiding feelings
early surrealistic images
to recent staccato cityscape
and suave sculptures
and refined poetry
you were never literal
because at the end
you put the last anaphoric word
exactly,
truth is never exact as they always
demand
ultimately words scatter
phrases mumble
intelligible and i perfectly understand
your thirst for
understanding
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem