Poema 12 [English translation]

For my heart your bosom is enough.

for your freedom my wings are enough.

From my mouth, what was asleep on your soul

will reach up to the sky.

In you is the hope of each day.

You come like the dew on the corollas.1

You sabotage the horizon with your absence.

Perpetually breaking away like the wave.

I have said that you were singing in the wind

like the pines and the masts.

Like them you are tall and taciturn.

And suddenly you become sad, like a journey.

You are as welcoming as an old road.

The echoes and nostalgic voices inhabit you.

I woke up and the birds that

slept in your soul sometimes migrate and flee.

1. The petals of a flower, typically forming a whorl within the sepals