Sigh
A child counts and stops and runs,
behind him a train stops and whistles and gets lost in the mist.
The spring is gone and the color of the sky has migrated.
Here, melancholy emerges and the birds keep flying,
the trees are naked and the leaves bewildered, cracked slaps,
broken chairs are lost
and in the garbage there are no rats nor rotten foods.
The flower I used to love has faded just as my thoughts
and the small light I used to lit and I was praying in is quenched,
like the old lady I used to love.
There is no pigeon on the horizon nor cob seeds in my palms and
the cat I used to stroke caress
is lost along with the years.
Neither hello, nor goodbye,
nor a single breath in the alleys where I walk,
Nor a single aroma from neighbor’s garden.
That speech has been erased and the drunk doesn’t drink,
doesn’t dream
because the dawn has set tired.
You don’t need to get lost and hide
because your breath flickers
And your eyes colorless sigh at this walk.