Not every truth arrives in words.
Some wait behind the lips,
where language falters
and intention sheds its costume.
Silence does not argue or persuade.
It stands when excuses fall apart,
when reasons grow elaborate and thin.
In its stillness, nothing is arranged
to make itself appear kind or wise.
A paused reply can confess more
than a practiced speech.
The quiet after a question
often knows the answer first.
What we refuse to say
sometimes speaks with perfect accuracy.
Listen to the spaces between sounds—
there the heart abandons performance.
There truth remains unadorned,
not louder for being absent,
but undeniable
because it does not need to insist.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem