he walks there when
the sun is about to set
when the setting happens
he sits on one of the benches
he spends hours there watching
something that fades
to surrender itself in the
most beautiful silence of
a feeling. When it is dark
and one star begins to appear
in the sky, he begins to talk
to himself. Now the lonely
chain is broken.There are
two of them now
in a conversation because
those stars in the heavens
are too distant, mute, and
even if beautiful
have remained to be
so indifferent
until it begins to rain
and that is the only touch
he has felt. It is cold.
Now he trembles, but
not running away to
take the shelter where
everyone is hiding in the
comfort of the arms of
the mob.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem