What You Knew of Me
Eugenio Montale

What you knew of me
was only a coat of paint,
the veil that clothes
our human fate.

And maybe behind the pale canvas
was the still blue;
only a seal kept out
the limpid sky.

Or else it was the fiery
change in me,
revealing a burning ember
I'll never see.

So that this husk became
my true substance;
the fire that isn't quenched
for me it was called: ignorance.

If you see a shadow
it's no shadow�it's me.
If only I could tear it off
and offer it to you.