La Mancha

There was a stain on the wall
that was a drawing years ago.
Today I erased it with a cloth:
I would regret it later.

I turned around: behind me
the wall without a smudge,
but then I felt
cold in my heart.

I had erased my childhood
and those dreams of going to the sun.
It was something good from love,
but suddenly I forgot.

I turned around: behind me
the wall without a smudge,
but then I felt
cold in my heart.

How inexplicable, yet I didn't see
that drawing in the smudge.
Have my eyes changed in me
or is it reason that changes?

Attention, attention:
Do not erase, do not throw away.
It would be horrible to throw away
life in a can.