It’s as if
On every page of memories
There was some eye catching trap.
I don’t know, how
Was I to escape
The doubts playing over my tongue,
And from the hopeless runnning
In an empty room
As if hosting a guest
Between the four walls of words?

I became destitute
Never taking off these blind feelings
Winter or summer like a woolen vest,
Sitting on moss-covered stairs
Smiling into emptiness,
Never knowing who it is
That comes and goes.

translated by George Messo