Mountains of Peloponese

Yannis Ritsos

Clouds on the mountain. Who or what is to blame? Silent and tired,
he looks forward, turns back, takes a step, bends over.
Stones lie below, birds above. A jar standing
in the window. Thorns in the open lands. Hands in pockets.
You plead and plead. The poem isn’t coming. Vacated.
The word needed to describe this must contain some emptiness.

from Stones [Collected Poems: I ]
(translated by Scott King)

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...η μελέτη του σώματος δίνει την αίσθηση ανείπωτης περιπλοκής...
Φρ. Νιτσε