Me? Yes…
One day I’m out of here, leaving behind the doors
the houses, the journals, and the woes
A flower will say, “Hi there”
A mountain will say, “Welcome”
A forest will smile
In the place where recollections, expectations, hope and
Where greed, competitions, worries depart
In the place where narration alone, pure narration
remains, there poetry will begin…
Which speaks to no one, sufficient only unto itself
Coherent within its own logic, its own beauty
But the life of the people will enter therein, because
the people are a living thing, a mighty thing
And the sea and horizon will enter, anthills, sky
and pinecones
And sea foam and, in the end, a love without jealousy
I mean, to make love with the sea, unconditionally,
without prejudice or reckoning
I mean, to lie down and think for thousands of years
Of things that are born, and die, and live on
Of being born, of dying, and of living
To tell of every thing dormant and great
Me? Ok. One day I’m out of here…
Without worries or tears, leaving nothing behind,
expecting nothing ahead
Nothing but a sparkling clean heart made of rainwater
With a heart that, in the end, has only its own meaning,
its own reasons.