it is the one that shows
the back of my back,
and the front
of my front,
it is not the normal mirror
that you see
that you can buy anywhere
or just have somewhere
it is the mirror of art,
the pathways of the subconscious
the credible lies of the
obvious
it is art, it does not die,
neither does it live,
it just slips away for no known
cause
there is no need to explain
it only demands
a little
feeling.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem