Here I am once again letting myself fall down the sloping bank
To go toward the marches and the primitive forests
When time decides and shadows do not menace the rigor of days.
I am here to receive your stubbornness and your lack of fear
To stay where I am surviving your life
When insidious memory leads you to a much far-off exile
Where you can only embrace the Summers of your childhood.
But I don’t know who are you if you have lived so long
Your world is of iron and its trees do not make me go forward
Your mother elected a river for your honorable death
But the river is completely oblique and I forget how to go there.
You think in silence. You write in silence.
You reach the curve taught by the ancient homicides of La Roche
And you kill guilt and kill words
And talk like strong men shedding tears.
You advance with the lightning and fall with the absence of sound
You look like a repentant heretic his eyes lost in the mire
Searching for a God like one more adventurer without the urgency of God
Your life overflows you and you embrace the dawn and I embrace your voice and I embrace you.
Translation by Nicolás Suescún