I talk to you

with the calm of a river

that leans on the sands

loving you

perfect diadem

of the poplars’ poncho.

 

I am absent

where your eyes don't touch me

and my hands don’t reach you.

 

Loved, I was,

in a room turned to ashes

while my brothers

entered the prisons and while

I dreamt of your arms

that I slowly forgot.

 

Now, I am alone

absolutely alone

without you

singing to freedom.