I put my hands in my pockets and took them out.
We walked silently. But what could one say
when the world is so bright and your eyes
so big. A boy, at the corner of the street sang
about his lemonade.
We split one; and the swallow that
suddenly flew by your hair, what did it say to you?
Your hair was so nice. Impossible, it must have said
something to you.
The hotel was small and in an old neighborhood next
to the train station
and we saw them manoeuvring the trains in the glare.
Truly, that spring, that morning, that simple happy room
where I held your naked body for the first time
the tears that I couldn’t hold back at the end
how they suited you.
Ah, our home was warm back then
our lamp was joyous
the world was so great.
The fried oil smelled in the kitchen.
I bent to kiss your hands which were full of flour
my lips would turn white. Then I kissed
your lips that got full of flour too.
We looked at each other and laughed.
Spring said good evening to us through
the open window
A girl sang on the opposite window.
It was so nice to be alive.
Then rain started. I wrote your name on all
our steamed windows
that we could get a piece of clear sky in our room.
Libros Libertad 