The eyes,—
a boy finally stares out
from behind the uncertain, incomprehensibly deep blueness.

The eyes,—lost in a child's sadness,
and the child will never know what he wants
or what will reconcile his dark moods—impatiently he discards
every toy,
for they have long ceased to summon his imagination.
He looks here and there, his gaze lost in a far horizon...
He sees nothing, and then everything
he wasn't supposed to see.
In the eyes;—revolt,
not like the grudge a young man holds
against his father,
but a child's disobedience, the disobedience
of the self's refusal to accept any refusal.
He denies even the mother's need to love him,
and the kiss he fears the way a child fears
his torn night.
The eyes, then;—searching. He goes on searching.—