I will have to raise the vast life that still now is your mirror
each morning I will have to reconstruct it.
Ever since you moved away, how many places have
become vain and without sense,
equal to lights in the day.
Afternoons that were niche of your image,
musics in which always you waited to me,
words of that time,
I will have to break them with my hands.
In what hole I will hide my soul
so that it does not see your absence
that like a terrible sun, without decline,
shines definitive and ruthless?
Your absence surrounds me
like the cord to the throat,
the sea to the sinking man