Wabi-Sabi (侘寂) Poem by Maria Mitea

if
we were a little closer to each other you would say we were born in japan
and the japanese inspired their philosophy from us,
you, flawed beauty, impermanent and incomplete,
me, modesty, asymmetrical intimacy that doesn't last but doesn't end either,
it doesn't break like a branch but it doesn't become perfection,
an intimacy that excels infinitely, increasing solitude
but never alone
like autumn leaves, colored by the sun
but which
fall slowly to the ground, old age bitter melancholy
refined by small luminous cracks hidden in the wood
if we touched each other
we would be part of japan's treasure, a plate
which instead of hot soup is waiting to crack like a cheek
touched by swords
waiting to be wiped with a rough towel
to feel the softness of his kintsukuroi wrinkles,
to feel its beauty from the cloudy moon
which still makes us taste what is unseen