I judge the human being from his pointed silence,
prior to the forehead, without his slingshot,
when he opens a door and emerges smiling
in order to close it again silent, bent down or old.
A message arrived inside his soul from the lower world:
There you can discern the superb opponent
from the breadth of the palm and the silver eye;
where craftiness has not yet sharpened the gaze,
where you can look at the kingdom of human beings
through a crack;
man from man hides his own mate
and the sheep bleat wherever earth and grass.
I am only thinking, said the president of the plainlands,
of the years which are transported, of that honest old man
who will be born
to track down the meaning and the voice
of the flowers, the animals, of all nature,
however much will remain in the kingdom.
I too shall come from the pointed silence,
without a slingshot and without a smile,
with a broad palm, with an ox’s movement,
from the sound and beyond the sound,
the stars, the hands, the laughing voice.
– “From Your Pointed Silence”, Kyriakos Charalambides