There's a dark deep down in ordinary things
Resists our bringing them into view,
Or else in bringing them what light we bring,
As if to ask the question 'Who are you? '
I do not know what answer I would make
Being myself, and, so, invisible—
Although I know when I give or when I take,
Outfitting my days as I best am able.
There's a dark deep down in ordinary things
Resists us, the way a mirror pushes
Until we're left again with things as things,
Alone among our daylit doubts and guesses.
I am one keeps to himself, and although
I do, I do not keep the dark alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem