Oswaldo


“The only good that looks like gold is . . . the road”
So said uncle Boulos
Once, one fleeting dawn.
Verses are ablaze on your pernicious head.
Trees now border your long foggy path.
I am not yours through any kind of belonging
And I have but unwillingly
Appointed you a guardian of my solemn pledges.
So . . . proceed in your visions.
The way of poetry is rather long . . .
Proceed adventurously . . . opening your arms to the wind
To the virginity of the land
The road will not mistake you
When it sees you coming far away like a cross or a martyr
               The road will not mistake you
                             The road will not mistake you!