Pedro, Meu Filho...

How I never fought to leave you nothing but the indispensable tomorrow: A backyard of green earth where a pensive stream may run; and in that land, a simple roof where you can hide the terrible inheritance that your passionate father left you - the folly of a heart constantly in love.
And because I made you with my seed a man among men, and I wanted you to be forever a slave to the duty of caring for that acre, not because it is mine, but because it was planted with the fruits of my most painful poetry.
Just as I, many nights, leaned over your cradle and shed upon your tiny sleeping body my most defenseless tears of love, and asked all the divinities to drive into my flesh the thorns made for you.
And because we lived together for so long and separated for so long, and what companionship created, absence could never destroy.
Just as I believe in you because you were born of love and grew in the depths of me like a tree within another, and you fed on my viscera, and as you became a man you broke my bark and stretched your arms towards a future in which I believed above all.
And as I recognize in your feet the feet of the boy I once was, in front of the sea; and in the roughness of your soles the large stones I climbed and the tall trunks I ascended; in your palms the burns of the infinite that I sought to touch like a madman.
Because your beard comes from my beard, and your sex from my sex, and in you is the seed of death created by my life.
And my life, more than being a temple, is an endless cave, in whose recesses a treasure was hidden for me by my father, but whose hiding place I never found, and whose discovery I now ask of you.
As the wide roads of youth have turned into these narrow paths of maturity, and the sun setting behind me lengthens my shadow like an arrow towards the dark north.
And death awaits me hidden somewhere, and I do not want to be afraid to go to its unexpected encounter.
That's why I cried so many tears so you wouldn't have to cry, not knowing that I was creating a sea of tears in whose vortexes you would also get lost.
And I gagged my mouth so you wouldn't scream and blinded my eyes so you wouldn't see; and the more gagged, the more you screamed; and the more blind, the more you saw.
Because poetry was for me a cruel woman in whose arms I abandoned myself without redemption, without even asking forgiveness from all the women I abandoned for her.
And just as I know that my whole life was a struggle so that no one else had to struggle:
This is the song I want to sing to you, Pedro my son...