ALL MY BELONGINGS

All my belongings have remained

as if I died long ago

dust to dust the place is full

and I inscribe crosses with my fingers

all my things recall

the hour we spent together

when my books lost themselves

the clock has stopped at that hour

the happy hour, enchanting

was the sundown

I’ve been dead so long

the window has always been closed.

No persons nor the sun ever enter

my deserted house echoes

that hour again, the only hour

that lasts from morning to the eve

and I don’t know what this place is

nor who inscribes the crosses

and all my things remained the same

as if I died long ago

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