Poesia [English translation]

Poetry, poetry—

there seems to be none.

Then you return by chance

to when you were a child

and you—

you went around singing,

you smiled for nothing,

and you could fly—

and all of this was

poetry.

Poetry, poetry—

there seems to be none.

Then he takes your hand

and takes you far away

with him—

and you are no longer a child,

you don't smile for nothing,

you discover that you are a woman—

and all of this is

poetry.

Poetry, poetry—

there seems to be none.

Then you awaken one night

and you want to talk

with him—

you must explain to him—

you don't know what to say—

your love is over—

but, in the end, this too

is poetry.