Gloria, you are missing in the air,
missing in my hand
that moves slowly.
You are missing from this mouth
that food no longer touches.
And always this story,
that she is called Gloria.
Gloria, on your hips
the morning sun arises.
Hatered enters and love escapes
with the name of Gloria.
Gloria, you are missing in the air.
Miss you like salt.
Miss you more than sun.
Melt this snow
that suffocates my chest.
I await Gloria.
Gloria; church of the village,
water of the desert.
I leave my heart open,
she goes away without a sound
from work, from your bed,
from the steps of the altar.
I await Gloria.
Gloria, for whom the day awaits
instead of sleeping.
With her memory returns
a touch of the poppies in a free world.
By whom fog breathes.
By whom fury breathes.
For me, all that, without Gloria.
With you nude on the sofa
you make stars look as cardboard.
Thinking of Gloria.