Mornings, Before Sunrise

You’re being sentimental again and tread on poetics

although you know that it’s not proper,

that more often than not we don’t go forward grit and backbone,

that novelty,

that the century,

that the sensibility of the contemporary intellectual,

of the angry young man, of the calculating machines,

you certainly know that the city, the physiology of the city,

that the world public opinion,

the sky like a grey and sterile stovetop…


However, there’s no chance of losing yourself in the grass,

you say,

in the mornings, before sunrise.


English version by Gabriela PACHIA