translated by Mina Karavanta 
It was not the heliotrope in the vase
but the odourless flower in his memory’s hollow
that emitted this pure aroma.
The flower did not reveal any of the secrets
that the sunflower – in its touchable complacency –
shamelessly admitted,
nor could it anyway by its nature
claim what, however little or much, a presence
                                          might pronounce.   
The idea of the flower
was not conductive to a vivid recollection;
on the contrary,
its beauty,
that is, the plenitude of its amorphous being,
in truth had something clear and final.
Something inside him told him
that reality –
this continually updated data bank –
is nothing but a genuine invention,
the need to deny the image
that with such certainly your eyes reflect.
   Affirmation, Dedalus Press, Dublin 2007