With abundant modesty
Sometimes even poets
are unable to write.
That happens when I think of you.
I find no words to tell you beside those that compose you.
If I omit one I do you wrong.
If I add one harmony changes.
I break my pencil and I look at you.
In ecstasy and in love.
In front of you I feel no poet.
More of a framemaker
in front of an exquisite painting.
Giorgos Ch. Theocharis