One day we will close our eyes
in hospitals, foreign clinics,
far from family and the soil
that hold our best memories.
In that closure of the eyelids
a life will terminate forever,
just like within parentheses.


The grief will be annihilated,
the great nostalgia, the joys,
all the unfortunate endeavors
to preserve customs, traditions,
and save as a precious treasure
from the everyday life storms
our dear, suffering language.


The long, loud cries of sadness
that we have kept deep inside,
the rare delights under the sky,
whose blue didn’t belong to us.
Prejudices of the petty beings
that we have swallowed like
morsels: bitter and difficult.


In our last isolated dwelling
there’ll be a flower at least;
that pained and shapeless bud
will testify not only to our absence,
but to that of the family
and friends that couldn’t come
and thus have forgotten us.


With the closure of eyelids
a story will be extinguished...