Why do we require
conspicuous reminders
of the singular -
objets d’art, like these -
each more or less uniquely
invaluable?
Is it because we -
controversial, as they are
peerless and solo –
have no more vocal
key-notes with which to address
our forgetfulness?
The triptych is not
different in this respect
for a hidden self
mostly neglected.
Not once, but thrice told; over
and over again:
no one is the same.
We have in common this much:
no more, and not less.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem