Irene

No, I have never wanted to paint
your long hair
nor your hands.

Nor your body, which I have surrounded
with waves I stole
from the open sea.

No, I have never wanted to paint
this serene
awakening, freed.

Nor the first bird song
that the wind brings us
before goodbye.

And now that time takes me away
and you close the door
through which I entered,
no, I don't want to remember
neither your image
nor your hands,
No, I can't stop
and look at life
from the window.

No, I don't want to step on
leaves that remind me
of your walk.

No, I don't want to return
to the path that leads me
to your home.

And now that behind us
lies that shortcut
we once took,
no, I don't want to remember
neither your image
nor your hands.
No, I can't stop
and look at life
from the window.