You Know To Not Know

He crosses halls
he always goes upstairs
just still busied on his own affairs
none stops him or a question asks
none need workman at his task
that makes his own religion law
below the gangway I never saw
they used his name to serve the end
and others left old souls to mend
that's a meaning deep
that's a whisper low
he lets the solemn warning flow
as a bubble bursting on the air
through jewelled ears of creatures fair
little fingers that feel
for their home on my breast
little lips that appeal
for their nurture they rest
drain, drain at the the stream
that's born in a dream
the unknown, the unseen
the joys that have been
you know
the green and the scarlet of park
you know
the undulating streets of dark
you know
tha faces full of pain
you know
the field of the passing way
would you like to kiss me?
[il senso di colpa dell'umanista
ovvero il tormento dell'artista]