STONE
No one hears what the stone holds in.
Insignificant, all its own, an affliction
Caught between the foot’s sole and the shoe.
When you release it, leaves whirl in the bare avenues.
What once was will never be again;
And piles of other decomposing meanings.
The smell of clinics nearby. Mute, you continue.
No one hears what you hold in.
You’re your own stone’s sole occupant.
You’ve just thrown it away.
Translated by W. Martin and the author