That third being between us. Like a mutual shadow.
Awakes us from sleep with a gentle touch of light, a breath of reality.
Bites us, when we’re too sluggish; dances around us, when we embrace each other.
We get lost in the wilderness of its fur, like children, pugnacious, fussy and nosy…
That third, Being between us.
Sometimes like a tender cloud, surrounds us with petals of silence;
Sometimes its skin turns rough and stings, like thistle and couch-grass
Sometimes becomes a smooth and shiny, dark blue fabric,
That blankets us when we lie naked in bed
That third being. Between us.
With one springy jump transports us over the coarse turmoil of life;
We circle its savage heart, like a ruined stadium overgrown with weed.
Haughty and majestic, like a incarnated vision of glimmering truth,
Freezes above us in an intimate concavity of the nighttime sky.
Bleeds and whines humiliated, when we grow apart…
That third being between us. Its song flowing above the world,
Its song is the source of words. It still gives birth to our own language.
The only possible one – the language of difference and love.

(Trans. from polish: Marcin Mieluch)

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