Translated by Hugo dos Santos
on each page, your stare. on each mountain,
your voice. let me speak with you. i remember
so well everything you said to me.
the words exist. i want to find you
always, in each night, on the desk cluttered
with papers where i clutter our life.
on each page, the fields. on each mountain,
you calling me. the pages are, again,
the day i was born. i remember everything so well.
years pass over the words. the days exist.
i hold the books as if i held your voice
and, when someone utters your name, i keep answering.
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