I am going to pawn my heart
until it becomes a bird and from it fall
new stars for the world.
Because I still travel
—I am a stranger—
and in the cities, the bridges
fall silent and hurt me.
I am going to protect myself from atrocities
and from injustices
until the twilight turns pink
and scars over.
I, who denied Christ on the first ship,
finally understood the meaning of the word goodbye.
It’s not a simple send-off:
it is the moment when everything sinks
into the white and transparent seas of numbers,
and the flower it lost, the only proof
of the existence of a paradise.
It is the moment of loss of the immediate heat
of the air that encloses and separates each
thing that exists in the world.
We move away from the city,
misfortune, misfortune, etc.
In which we make
no more songs.
Our flute remained buried
in the roots of a willow:
destroying the ground,
raising streets and paving stones.
We go far, friends:
where the cows drink,
where the sap flows.
Our verses need
to be judged,
but in more savage lands…