I am not I.
I am this one
walking beside me whom I do not see,
whom at times I manage to visit,
I have a feeling that my boat
has struck, down there in the depths,
against a great thing.
I shall not return. And night, mildly warm, serene and silent, will lull the world, under beams of its solitary moon.
My body will not be there, and through the wide-open window, a refreshing breeze will come inquiring for my soul.
I don't know if any await the end of my double absence, or who will kiss my memory amidst caresses and weeping.
But, there will be stars and flowers, there will be sighs and hopes, and love in the avenues in the shadows of the trees.
- No, no!
and the dirtyneck boy starts crying and running
without getting away, in a moment, on the streets.
The white moon takes the sea away from the sea
and gives it back to the sea. Beautiful,
conquering by means of the pure and tranquil,
the moon compels the truth to delude itself
Who knows what is going on on the other side of each hour?
How many times the sunrise was
there, behind a mountain!
You are carrying me, full consciousness,
god that has desires,
all through the world.
Here, in the third sea,
The door is open,
the cricket is singing.
Are you going around naked
in the fields?
Oh, what sound of gold going,
of gold now going to eternity;
how sad our ear, to have to hear
that gold that is going to eternity,