Where new eyes look at old times
as strangers without a heart…
I long towards my old graves,
my melancholy greatness cries bitter tears
which nobody sees.
I live incessantly in the sweetness of old days
among strangers who build new cities
on blue hills up against the heaven’s arch,
I talk quietly with the caught trees
and comfort them sometimes.
Where time slowly corrodes the nature of things,
and the hard heel of fate inaudibly stomps.
I must wait for the mild death
which brings the soul freedom!