apoetreflects:

Necessary Explanation

There are certain stanzas—sometimes entire poems—
whose meaning not even I know.  It’s what I do not know
that holds me still.  You were right to ask me.  But don’t ask me.
I don’t know, I tell you.
                                   The parallel lights
from the same center.  The sound of water
falling in winter from an overbrimming drain pipe,
or the sound of a waterdrop as it falls
from a rose in a watered garden
slowly, slowly on a spring evening
like a bird’s sobbing.  I don’t know
what this sound means; even so, I acknowledge it.
I’ve explained to you whatever else I know.  I’ve not been
       neglectful.
But even these add to our lives.  I would notice,
as she slept, how her knees formed an angle on the
       bedsheet—
It was not only a matter of love.  This corner
was a ridge of tenderness, and the fragrance
of the bedsheet, of cleanliness, and of spring supplemented
that inexplicable thing I sought—in vain again—to explain
       to you. 

—Yannis Ritsos, from Yannis Ritsos: Selected Poems 1938-1988, edited and translated from the Greek by Kimon Friar and Kostas Myrsiades (BOA Editions, Ltd., 1994)