I can do without
Of each one of the memories
Of my neighbor the kleptomaniac,
Of a scrap heap
Spread to the four sides
Of my home,
And of the torrent of dead cells
That escapes for my hair,
As if were prisoners
Pardoned of the flames.
I can survive without the eternity,
To travel the world
Wide and other’s people
And to live to all volume,
To full pleasure,
But what I cannot make
It is to forget my condition
Of Caribbean,
To do without of my warm island,
Of the turquoise color of my sea,
To forget my groves
And the blazing green
Of my maritime city.
No hay comentarios.:
Publicar un comentario