There is no relationship between things
and what embodies them.
At best, reality is a void
and its copy in the mirror
the evidence of its precariousness.
Names traverse the world
depicting the anguish of not being what they name.
People hurriedly run
towards the subway car or the bus
because life hinges on a concept.
Not even punctuality corresponds to its word,
since it's not possible to arrive at destiny behind schedule.
Can spirit and body ever coexist?
Would they not be an inseparable binomial,
one lone thing we still fail to name?
With these themes, as with so many others,
I stumble over rhetoric,
and I ask myself anew if it is possible
just to live.

Translation: 2010, Constance Lardas