When things are shifted,
only shadows remain.
Enforced silence,
cold air.
I told you I was a rose, a whiff of night
reaching the nostrils.
I said: things, well coordinated
relationships. I said: shadows,
the excess of love that once
was only an unknown desire.
Small, untouchable flames
touch my heart – incessantly,
with no distinct reason.
Like a fallen petal, like someone
staring at a glow-worm on a fragrant June night,
like an inaudible emptiness
behind tightly shut
lips.
There in that wet gaze
our poorly concealed evidence
lies dormant,
our meager hopes,
hardly tacit betrayals.
Blessed touches that are now
a sheer passage of time.
Other shadows hide among shadows.
A shift will easily trigger another shift.
I am the silence:
hidden letters cover my forehead.
Translated by: Mario Šuško