Ezekielen esnatzea II

I

From the leaves of the tree
from the traffic light created by the walls
from the red light of prohibitions
from the beginning of the story
even from the most hidden corners
from the gold
from the sticks,
from the swords,

II

In the clouds
I am in the cloud valley, unable to lengthen the encounter
with this evening's balloon
with the eternal embrace of this tyrant of emptiness
I am a drop on the edge of the cliff
on the beach;

III

Until I get used to this crazy city
if I immerse myself in your customs today
because of breaking connections
it is not because of the star colony
that I realize: in your invention
I am newly born.

IV

I always keep the stones
where the new foundations are laid
so that it does not
they are always left to be erased
ready and waiting to rebuild the bridges
behind, in the spring
in the spring;

V

I assume that my wind
has as much ozone as yours
I assume that yours is the same
my little chains are tangled
but I can't deny; my faith goes behind

VI

The last bits of happiness
I will throw them from the middle
I will have to deodorize
the usual reminders of this
loveless environment
the hearts of Sundays
so that this decay does not drag me.