transparency

"I was walking in the park, along the creek.The light was silver. A goldfinch hovered above my path a few yards ahead. The pages of a broken book drifted along the surface of the water.I was pierced--by what, I cannot say. I would like to say, but I cannot say. And I do not mind that I am lacking in the words. The unsayable is precious to me. I do not wish to be a creature only of language, one of those "articulate" people to whom the world is always transparent, who can always tell you what's really going on. Sometimes I do not know what is really going on, and the clumsiness of my expression must vouch for the exertion of my mind. Anyway, I cannot conceive of the transparency of the world."