The spider web has stretched its perfection
Between the green shoot and the old branch.
The weak and the strong hold the threads together.
The lights have become entangled and now
This scene resembles dust within a radius
Of sunshine on an ordinary summer afternoon. Without being so.
Chance creates its worlds as
A flame whose blue and white outline
Undulates around the head of the fire. This seems light as
a spider web. Without being so.*
*Poem By Sibila Petlevski
Translation: Henry Kanabus