Ana

Ana, life is so short,
and there are so many goodbyes
full of empty promises.

Ana, what will become of us
when we fall and others
take our place?

Ana, where will be the next battle
in which we lose
the war against loneliness?

Ana, you will hear again
the stones that happiness
threw against your window.

Happiness threw.

Ana, life is so short,
maybe it will turn into a lie
and I won't know you tomorrow.

Ana, when a hug hides you
then remember the year
we forged peace.

Ana, maybe I'll leave and not return,
maybe I'll die and you won't
have to curse me ever.

Ana, I see you and I declare myself guilty
of desiring your presence
more than desiring peace.

Ana, what do I do with my songs,
with the handful of frost,
with my urge to kill?

Ana, what do I do with the mountains
of papers I've signed
swearing to die or love?

Swearing to die or love.

Ana.