José Saramago – Call you rose

Jean-Francois Millet (1814-1875), The shooting stars

Call you rose, dawn, or flowing water,
what is it – if not words threw together
among the scraps of other tongues,  other mouths?
Mysteries are not what they seem,
or rather, words cannot say them:
in deep space, a few stars.

Chiamarti rosa, aurora, acqua fluente,
cos’è se non parole raccattate
tra i rifiuti d’altre lingue, d’altre bocche?
I misteri non sono quel che sembrano,
o non riescono a dirli le parole:
nello spazio profondo, stelle poche.

Do you know a different English translation? Please contact me, this is a personal translation