Post Scriptum Poem by Antoni Vidal Ferrando

We have profaned time, and being aware of it
We suddenly felt ill-at-ease.
In slow motion and with the restlessness
of huskies on foggy nights,
the instants in which we are now pass by.
We have profaned time and our punishment
will be an irreversible race
towards the amazement of becoming its hostages.
I call to you, from the absurd, as someone who asks
imperiously for the benefit
of a place in the sun, the light touch of a gardenia.

Translated by Estelle Henry-Bossonney