We shall lose
even our shadows.
No one! , No one!
shall see us
holding hands
this afternoon
seeking
that wooden
rest
while
the blue night
falls
on the world
from a window
of sadness.
I have seen
the celebration
of the sunset
on distant hills
Sometimes,
like money
burning a hole
in my pocket
a slither of sun
escapes from
my closed
hands
I remind you
of the sadness
which your
closed soul
knows me by.
So, where were you?
Among which people?
Speaking what words?
Because I sold love
letting it
gallop away
sadly and
I feel blue.
I threw away
even the feast
that is always
eaten
at a funeral
to my favorite
dog rolling
at my feet
Because,
always!
always!
you become distant
in the afternoons
moving toward
that pyre
which
is carried away
evaporating
statues
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem