INEXPRESSIBLE
The trees contemplate at twilight. And the rocks,
and the voices as if they return home and lock
the door behind them. Behind the door a naked woman
stands in front of the big mirror.
You know it and you smile. You don’t see anything.
Perhaps you could find her in a song; but when you try
to sing your lips lose the shape of your smile.
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 