San Juan and old Boedo, and all the sky,
Pompeya and beyond the flood.
Your bride’s hair remembered,
and your name drifting in farewell.
The blacksmith’s corner, mud and plains,
your house, your sidewalk, and the ditch,
and a scent of herbs and alfalfa
that fills my heart anew.
South,
a wall and then…
South,
a store’s light…
You’ll never see me as you once did,
leaning on the window,
waiting for you.
I’ll never light with stars again
our carefree walk
through Pompeya nights…
The streets and outskirt moons,
and my love and your window,
all is gone, I know…
San Juan and ancient Boedo, lost sky,
Pompeya and reaching the embankment,
your twenty years trembling with affection
under the kiss I then stole.
Nostalgia for things that have passed,
sand that life swept away,
sorrow for neighborhoods that changed,
and bitterness for the dream that died.
