Happiness…

Happiness paints his face out of grey.

Not waiting for conditions.

There is no limit to two converging hands.

Moments meandering between four walls,

raindrops at the bottom of the eaves,

street lamps, unchained sounds and spots remain.

Although less than that,

happiness is content with the imagination,

does not slip behind the bed, humming, not singing,

awaiting awakening at the foot of a dream.

Happiness is nonrecurrent and unparalleled.

Szép Róbert XII.H