Drawers Poem by Pedro Mexia

You should not open closed
drawers: they were locked for a reason,
having now found
the key is a happenstance you can ignore.
You know what you'll find inside drawers:
lies. Many paper lies,
photographs, things.
Drawers are home to the world's
imperfection, the unalterable imperfection,
the sorrow that repeatedly feeds your disillusion.
Drawers have always been packed
by people as weak as you
and locked by someone wiser than you.
A month ago, never mind a century.

Translation by Ana Hudson,