Oh my daughter, the unrepeatable manner of sublime things
I fell in a trap while looking for unwanted images,
no longer does the stained whiteness make me care,
thinking makes me suffer.
In vain do I wait for those real moments,
In vain do I try to find those irreversible images.
She, the woman inside my womb deceived me with her swollen belly
Connected to those tiny little feet caressing me with their light kicks
I did wait as though in a dream…time was too clumsy
to give you those holy nine months.
My loneliness and hopeless despair still chasing me
through a forest of nappies and bandages soaking
with a stream flowing from your back mixed with the boring? hair of sleep
that has long haunted me impatiently.
But I don’t trust the evil-boding woman inside me any more.
Nor the exulting cry, nor her sad face continuing to lay snares for me
On my roads that she alone knows.
Shall I take revenge? How can I throw stones on your grave?
I know: Being at a loss I can judge no one.