I hide behind simple things so you'll find me;
If you don't find me, you'll find the things,
you'll touch what my hand has touched,
our hand-prints will merge.
The August moon glitters in the kitchen
like a tin-plated pot (it gets that way
because of what I'm saying to you),
it lights up the empty house and
the house's kneeling silence-
always the silence remains kneeling.
Every word is a doorway
to a meeting, one often cancelled,
and that's when a word is true:
when it insists on the meeting.
Yannis Ritsos, The Meaning of Simplicity