what I miss mainly? the light
that on a black old-fashioned
lincoln jacket is too warm in itself
too hot for the time of year:
in each corner of the soft yellow
room I have a ventilator
that makes me frown. a gnawing sense of guilt
something that excites in the silence
around cane the creaking of chairs
while in the garden the colours have finally
calmed down.
i am the flies here in this house
and I am one with the mirrors.
already dissolved a footstep the
kneeling the kiss on the ground
precious as a symbol of what
makes green seem green.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem