i have forgotten morning walks
on these hard times
morning walks become a luxury
i miss the coming of the sun
from the breasts of mountains
i have forgotten morning walks
as poems pop out like popcorn from
the frying pans of
these hard times
outside the killings continue
outside the numbness of the minds of the citizens
has multiplied into geometric patterns
oh the Pieta had a lot of replicas already
tears have become shy or restrained like nuns in the convent
the trembling is hidden inside the houses like guns
on closed doors and windows the child's cry is heard
i have to postpone my morning walks for a while
miss the sun and the trails
miss the rain and the flowers along the way
miss my friends in the club
miss my mother and father in their graves
miss my brother in the ship
miss my sister in the far country where happiness lives...
i have forgotten the good times
missed the opportunity to love you even
miss the moment to remember you again
till then, till the next life, the next world
the next movie, the next scene, my dearest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem