Remembering you is remembering loneliness;
a word wanders in the mountains of my brain,
over the steep cliffs and down the cold ravines.
It moves quickly leaving no trace behind
like a leopardess tormented by hunger.
A word tells me: it doesn’t want to disappear into emptiness
as if never existed. It wants me to see it and track it down
like a hunter, finding it in the memory
and saying it out loud. But I don’t know
where to place it. Oh word! How can I put you
into this world? It’s not even my world.
It's a world of politicians and a world of businessmen. I walk
in this world as if walking on the edge of a knife, or in a maze.
Yes, a maze indeed. Televisions and newspapers are
teaching people the trading law; people everywhere,
old or young, are talking about money, money is
everything, from happiness to dignity.
I see the huge maze opening its gate.
I don’t want to walk in, but I'd rather
walk to a flower, a bird, or a star. I'd rather
close myself in the room. I'd rather you . . . disappear.