They left from here
a grey morning
in the spring.
They were heading down south
with their youth
across their chest.
With a dream on their back
and the memory of a doll.
The old holm oaks
saw them depart.
Near of far,
in any place,
following other footsteeps.
The road never ends
when it arrives at the forest…
Few have returned to the placid nook.
Perhaps tomorrow I too will go
towards another port.
I will say goodbye to the people,
to the homeland and to the wind
that have seen me grow
and I will close the drawer
of my yesterday
without complaint.
And I will search for a house
there where the sun warms me.
I should leave
far from the evergreen oaks…
Near or far,
in any place,
following other footsteeps.
The road never ends
when it arrives at the forest…
Few have returned to the placid nook.
Perhaps tomorrow I too will go
towards another port.