First the distant meeting in April,
your dark balcony, your ancient garden.
Later the letters with feverish pulse
lying they don’t, swearing they do.
Neighborhood romance your love and my love.
First a desire, then a pain,
for faults we never had,
for faults we both had to suffer.
Today you will live
despising me, perhaps without dreaming
that I lament not being able to have you,
the pain of not knowing how to forget.
Today you shall be
further than ever from me,
far from so much weeping.
It was just because,
that spite blinded you like it did me,
without seeing that in the bitterness of goodbye
you cruelly punished your own heart.
It was just because
that suddenly we couldn’t think,
that it’s easier to deny and leave
than to live without forgetting.
Ashes of time the meeting in April,
your dark balcony, your ancient garden
the letters drawn with feverish hand
lying they don’t, swearing they do.
Returning defeated your voice and my voice
bringing back with tones of horror,
the faults we never had
the faults we both had to pay.
